Down in the Garden

It is a strange feeling to realize that something that existed only in your head, as a big, improbable "what if," now exists in tangible, visible form. To actually walk into a space that you only imagined is a bit like walking into your own brain.  And the fact that plants are growing, as I hoped they would, in spite of weeks without rain, possible jumping worms, and slugs, adds to the enchanted nature of it all.  

 A garden! A place to hope, to try, to fail, to learn.  This year's garden started with a surprise gift. Some scraggly upstarts, suspiciously resembling weeds, where I didn't remember planting anything. I made a half-hearted attempt to uproot one of them, but  stopped. The foliage seemed familiar. The upstarts continued to grow, and then I remembered.  My friend Caroline had given me the seeds last year, because they are called Robinson's Painted Daisy. They didn't bloom until this year, sweet pale pink blossoms that add a grace note to the chard and beets. I hope they come back.