We've Grown Something Wild and Unruly

Friends visited in early May. As we communed on our screened porch, Lee opined, "Ah think that would be a good place for a butterfly garden." She pointed.

My previous gardening efforts were uninventive: soldierly rows of matching plants, geometrically arranged, evenly spaced, frequently pruned. I sensed a butterfly garden might be different. Before our friends departed, I knew it was different. Under their tutelage, we visited local nurseries and selected from the abundance of spring offerings.

Planting ensued. Hands were dirtied, tools employed, sweat exuded, soil turned, roots lovingly set in their new environs. It merited the name "Garden of Forgiveness" for reasons unrelated to its creation.

Pixie approves. Most evenings find the two of us meeting at the garden to investigate what changes the day brought. As we oogle the new growth, a lovefest invariably ensues.

There was no predicting the continuing joy this garden would bring. Perhaps surprising only to me, it flourishes. It's wild. It grows willy-nilly. Stems stretch up and over and out all in all directions. Others hug the ground popping out brilliant multi-colored blossoms. They bloom! Repeatedly! With vibrant colors and varied shapes. It's unlike any other garden I have ever called mine.

I absolutely adore it.

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