Spring graced us with yet another lush, wet, soggy Saturday;
It was a nice day to stay inside, or stand on the porch and watch the weeds grow. Weeds that I had just trimmed a few days ago. Or a week ago. Okay, a week ago. The point is…they’re fast growers and they mock me with their upward mobility:
The plants are going a little crazy now too. The Dianthus and Chives have exploded in bursts of pink and purple. It’s like watching fireworks go off at ground level;
I love watching all the greenery unfurl while under the influence of rain. Even the run-away lawn. We can try to tame it but I don’t mind seeing it run a little wild just to remind us of its true nature. There’s only so much we can control. Best to keep in mind, we are ultimately not in control. Unless I brought in professionals. But what’s the fun in that? There’s something romantic and wild about lush gardens running amok against the textured background of the farm;
Looking out from my porch that soggy Saturday, the wild garden movement of the late 19th Century Victorian time period comes to mind. I’m here to bring that trend back. It works for me, there are no crisp lines, no perfect strokes. I’ll let nature guide the design with a few little tweaks on my part. It all sounds like an excuse to save me a little time and work, and it partly is, but I notice this spring I feel a lot less harried about it all than in the past. Which means I can spend more time to simply enjoy it. A fine trade-off from my point of view.