My front garden has exploded this year. Moderate temperatures and copious amounts of rain mean all the water-loving plants are twice their average size.
Who wouldn’t want that?
Bigger isn’t always better, though, is it?
After hearing me talk about leaves, my four-year-old granddaughter, Amelia, cried out, “No, Grandma, no! Your garden is too full! There is no more room for leaves!”
When it came to the two beautiful rose bushes I planted last year, she was right.
I knew when I planted them that they wouldn’t have as much space as they should have. Ever optimistic, as gardeners, especially small-space gardeners, tend to be, I planted them anyway, hoping for the best.
On a tour of my soggy garden this morning, I found them, pinned to the ground by the enthusiastic, rain-soaked plants around them.
Hidden gems, struggling to hold their own, leaves chewed and tattered, blooms bedraggled, sprawled on the black mulch.
And then this little beauty, stem broken, hanging by a thread, yet still lovely despite it all.
Beauty is often fleeting and fragile, I couldn’t bear to see it go to waste.
Now the lovely pale pink petals and the subtle rose fragrance bring me joy each time I sit in my living room.
This fall, both of these lovely rose bushes will find a spacious home in the back garden . . .
Somewhere . . . somehow . . .