![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgLd2ZUZ4lrKNkxVxCTHOBH_7loyjlGwrLexa2PsR5B0Pbu_8xo_pYTNAUgAo0_PExQmUVunI5fmmTlimHiq0m4y2rXTfp0OQ4Vr6Bb6WYtDivxsBtj50Z1QL6WlfbbxZi7B9BbgQ/s200/Planting.jpg)
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.
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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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