June is an incredibly busy month. You see, I'm a gardener. Since I became a gardener five years ago, spring has become my favorite season. Oh, the anticipation! What will the weather be like, and how will it affect my plants? What lived through the winter? Do I see evidence of the woodchuck's appetite?
So it's a very tough time to be balanced. It's all about the garden. Morning and evening walk-throughs. I want to savor the sights and smells, because it comes and goes so quickly. There's no guarantee that it'll be this way again. It's all about now, and trying to remember. I rush to capture it all on film, but it just never can quite tell the story, the essence.
That's life. There'll never be a June 18, 2011 evening again. Will I ever remember how it became so muggy as twilight fell? Will I remember the garden tour, the nine homes my mother and I visited? Will I remember that my banana bread didn't turn out well? I think I want to remember.
Our memories are changed by new perceptions we attain, by the new person we've become. What remark hurt me yesterday may have no effect on me today. Strange.
Anyway, this is June 18, 2011. It's Rose Weekend at Elizabeth Park, so in honor of that I'll show you the roses from the garden I planted in the front side yard last year.
Saturday, June 18, 2011
June - It's All About the Garden
June is an incredibly busy month. You see, I'm a gardener. Since I became a gardener five years ago, spring has become my favorite season. Oh, the anticipation! What will the weather be like, and how will it affect my plants? What lived through the winter? Do I see evidence of the woodchuck's appetite?
So it's a very tough time to be balanced. It's all about the garden. Morning and evening walk-throughs. I want to savor the sights and smells, because it comes and goes so quickly. There's no guarantee that it'll be this way again. It's all about now, and trying to remember. I rush to capture it all on film, but it just never can quite tell the story, the essence.
That's life. There'll never be a June 18, 2011 evening again. Will I ever remember how it became so muggy as twilight fell? Will I remember the garden tour, the nine homes my mother and I visited? Will I remember that my banana bread didn't turn out well? I think I want to remember.
Our memories are changed by new perceptions we attain, by the new person we've become. What remark hurt me yesterday may have no effect on me today. Strange.
Anyway, this is June 18, 2011. It's Rose Weekend at Elizabeth Park, so in honor of that I'll show you the roses from the garden I planted in the front side yard last year.
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