There is a garden that I drive by frequently that is almost perfect. It has just the right amount of balance - tall grasses balance beautifully with shrubs; white clumps of impatiens are placed throughout the border, keeping your eye moving, not stuck.
There are two problems with this perfection, though. One, it is static. There has been no change for months, not even a stray weed appearing. Second, I have never seen anyone in the garden, admiring it, or enjoying it, or working in it. Its beauty and perfection are sad rather than joyful.
I much prefer a small garden that I often walk past. It is sometimes messy, but always boisterous. Black eyed susan, purple coneflower, ornamental grasses co-exist with weeds. I get the feeling that this owner sees something she loves and plants it - whether it "goes" or not. This is a happy, messy place - a place with love.
I have included a picture of one of my own garden borders. I have to move the Russian sage (that droopy, gray-purple flower in the center) to the back so that I can really see the deep green-blue herb with pink flowers in front of it (I wish I know the name - it might be a thyme).
You also see the white house behind the border, and often a car or two.
Clearly, this image is not magazine-ready. It is a source of joy for me though - colorful, dynamic, full of life - the way a garden should be. (We have planted three tiny arborvitae in the back - some day the white house won't be so obvious.)
No comments:
Post a Comment