Maybe it's because I'm having dreams of bigger, riskier things, but I'm somewhat unsatisfied with the garden. Oh, it's full and lush, firing on all cylinders. It's taking care of itself beautifully as a healthy ecosystem should. I don't know if I can put my finger on it....
This is perhaps my favorite angled view of the main garden, capturing most of it in the frame. The paths are hidden by the height of the three main beds. In a few weeks this will all be color, but even now, the texture is appealing. But I'm bored. Is it that I've become accustomed to it? That, like any gardener, I strive for more? Like any artist, the work is never right even when it is?
Maybe the paths are too narrow. The plants too thick. Maybe it's the lack of shrubs (not bushes) and sitting areas, or the lack of "rooms" within the space.
I'm borrowing my neighbor's invasive red cedars for seclusion, shade, contrast, scale, and a windbreak. The garden feels so small, yet it's 1,500 square feet.
I love coneflowers for their variety in appearance from bud to winter seedhead. This year, I'm especially enamored with this phase -- the almost phase. I can hear it grunting, stretching, and relaxing with a long sigh. This phase is almost prettier than any other. Did I just notice it? Have I become bored with the full bloom and now I have moved on to another period in development? What's next, the leaves?
I don't know what it is. Well, maybe part of it is the total lack of butterflies and moths this year, and the bumblebees have gone into hiding. Flies and mosquitoes, that's what I have as far as a fourth dimension. Maybe the purpose of my garden isn't for my pleasure or necessity, but the absent wildlife. Where is the world? Where are you, denizens of bloom, for which I've placed this feast? I miss you and I want to do more. I want a bigger garden. I want more flowering shrubs. More perennials. More fountains. I want to give you my entire lot. I'll tear down the house if you insist. I'll give you the neighborhood, the city, the state. What's wrong with my garden? I'm not sure what part of me feels an unhappiness, but it's there, like a dream that won't let go even in the afternoon.