There is a secret world that lives in my garden. My poor, much neglected garden. Summer was first too wet and cold and then quickly turned to a heated oven and things passed away, faded from life. I had all but given up on my front flower beds. Jacob and his friend Ben did some aggressive weeding and pulled even plants that I liked that they saw no purpose for. Jacob figures, much like my father who he never met or knew, that if you can not eat it; it shouldn't grow. Out went color and ornamental grasses. Tossed to the compost pile were purple vinca, pink heathers, iris bulbs, and carnations. I am left with what I thought was a dead waste land of what once was.
I have made mental plans for next years' garden. The shame of being an artist without a pretty garden is too much to bear but on one recent rainy afternoon, hidden amongst the remains of a few plants, I found this -