I love my garden; I embrace its smells, its texture, its chaos, and let it colour my life. The pink-purple Rose of Sharon, the white Daisies, the yellow Echinacea are my complexion. I don’t believe in regimented order; all flowers of a type segregated into separate beds… No, I love my flowers to mingle, to express their uniqueness in a pandemonium of green leaves and brown stems. There are no weeds individually; weeds are plants that will not share the nourishments of the garden. Weeds are plants that crowd out diversity and think there is only one plant that should flourish… them.
Loosestrife is a weed; though it has a pretty purple bloom, its roots poison the plants around it so only it will survive… It’s like a religion that only allows one true dogma… everyone else is an infidel to be put to death… No, this plant doesn’t belong in my garden.
But plants aren’t the only thing I embrace; bees and bugs and spiders are also citizens. They fly, crawl and burrow on my plants; each pollinating or embellishing or destroying; but all supporting the garden’s complexity.
I stand here in my garden with open arms welcoming the seasons and watching the beauty of the ephemeral. I don’t change. My breasts, colourful like blossoms, are static; my stance is locked it time; but I am the contrast that highlights the beauty of these brief moments where all around me grows, blooms and then disappears. I’m glad they are not unchanging like me, no it’s their brief moment of life that I so appreciate. They are the eye candy of the garden.
So, my son, you are like me, a sentinel, a watcher, a garden beauty that through our constancy, contrasts the changing nature of our garden. The people who tend this garden, appreciate its beauty as we do. They have been the ones to create our universe. We and the plants have been brought here to reflect their vision; a wild, chaotic, beautiful vision… but that is also ephemeral. They someday will leave as well; and who knows what will replace their vision. It may be like the bland neighbouring gardens that surround us, or it may be even a paved parking space. But that is the future; today we will revel in the vibrant life that is our garden.
Author’s Note: This picture is of the front garden, of my friend Bernhard’s place, in Berlin. He and his wife have a beautifully wild and effervescent garden, and they also keep bees on the roof.