confessions of an occasional gardener

confession is such a big word.  too big for today anyway.  it’s implications are too complex & demanding & frankly, i may just not be up to the task, besides, who in their right mind would be interested in what i would/could/should confess?  particularly since there’s no way for you to confirm or deny the truth of what i am confessing.

it’s true that the photos that accompany this post are of flowers in our garden.  it is also true that they are as freshly made as a bouquet in a florist’s shop.

it is a fiction that they have not been manipulated.  i cannot resist tweaking the contrast, the lighting, the saturation & the temperature until they express how i see the garden.  it is an idealized view with a foot root firmly planted in reality while the rest of it dances in the breeze of fiction.

in a life filled with priorities, the garden sadly suffers from benign neglect (gray gardens); all of its little fingers grasping at the hems of my long pants, shorts & night shirt/little whimpers of ‘pay attention’ ‘look here’ ‘this is no way to treat us, we who treat you so well.’

somehow though, it seems to be okay for the garden & for me.  just often enough i work my way through: dead-heading, sweeping, fertilizing, plucking, pruning.  it may be that i am only able to work a small section of it this week & it may be several weeks before i get back in there & work another section of it (i apologize.)

the garden, though, has its own rhythm, one that i can only listen to & react to & look at & admire.  the color palette (m. laid out the design, i’ve added to it willy-nilly over the years since he has been unable to physically work in here) surprises me — nature surprises me because there are no colors that do not belong together (everyone should know that.)

the true confession is that i love it more than i let on; there are times when it grabs a hold of me & shakes, shakes me hard.  i’ve yet to weep with love & joy, but deep inside it is the ecstasy of emotion that settles sweetly in my soul.


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© Robert Patrick, and Cultivar, 2008-2013. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts, photographs and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Robert Patrick and Cultivar with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

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