Our garden got a very slow, late start this year, and I had quite fallen out of love with it when one day this past week, I looked up and realized it had come into its own. Quietly, almost secretly, it had filled out, tangling over posts and through fence wires, spreading down rows and tumbling between weeds, the garden had grown surprisingly….
Beautiful in its own wild way, of course.
It’s beauty is in the eye of the beholder. I like its carefree sprawl, its “I don’t mind if my house is messy, come in” invitation.
It’s rather weedy and, to be honest, not all that productive. But while many of the more technically perfect gardens in the area, gardens that were scrupulously weeded and planted on a timely schedule, are brown and done, our garden is green and yet bursting.
It doesn’t care if it’s not ready for company and it’s only half-dressed, if its mascara is smeared and it can’t find its shoes.
Neither do I.
As it’s running through the end of summer in all its messy splendor and glorious abandon, it’s enough, quite enough….
….just to enjoy it.