It is true, I can come across as quite a bore.
When I'm bewitched by the garden you see.
I wait for golden hour everyday.
This you already know.
I stroll and marvel and watch.
Birds swoop in and out.
The horses on the property next to me sing away.
Pink roses I planted on the opposite side of the rose arbor unfurl.
Slowly, peeking through the whites.
The rose arbor multiplies by 3 times.
It hugs you if you stand inside, slowly growing growing growing.
More and more each day.
I am mesmerized by the tiny pinks.
Perfect little rose buds turning into pink puffs.
I watch as spring fills in all the nooks and crannies.
It grows greener and bigger and wider and taller.
A character in the story, all of its own.
And when golden hour peeks in just at the right time, you can see orbs and creatures glistening in the light.
Wings light up.
Stories and tales flutter about.
Waiting for you to catch one in your butterfly net.
You can almost morph yourself right into a Jane Austen novel.
Imagining yourself into a Fragonard painting.
Swinging from rose vines in a tree.
Puffy fluffy frock included.
The garden has a way of inspiring such things in me.
You too I see?
And so, I roam here.
Obsessed with all the garden happenings.
Day to day changes.
More and more flowers.
Swimming in this glorious spring.
Fairies at midnight.
I drink it all in.
I wake up early, eager to see what's happening out there.
I paint on my gypsy wagon.
I catch a rare snap of my ornery handsome love.
I pick roses from the very old rose bush.
Planted by the previous owners in the 70's.
Giant candy pink frosting roses.
Then I grab a blanket and a book and a hot tea.
And I sit and watch this golden light slowly begin to take over, like a dream.
But only for a fleeting moment.
I know the white roses are coming to an end on the rose arbor.
Until we meet again in 2017.
Yep, just once a year.
I know I could have had heaps of pink floribunda's year round if I had known more when I planted them.
But I do believe, there is a reason for all that happens.
And so, I love my once a year whites.
While the tiny pinks on the other side happen all year.
So, I try not to miss any moments with them.
I'm like a broken record.
I ask ML and the dogs and everyone to meet me in the arbor.
I force them to get hugs by it and hide right underneath it.
For a fairy tale loving girl, who planted her heart out for years and years and years -
Well, these are the things that mean everything.
Watching it all happen.
That's the reward in the end isn't it?
I am sure I bore everyone who comes around me.
Talking about gardening and things growing.
I go to the plant stores, the people that work there ask me if I have a garden.
I say yes, and tell them how it's currently blooming and how it's so fun and rewarding.
And they just ho hum about it all.
I know I know, it's boring if you aren't in it.
But if, if you have your own garden, then you know.
And if you love gardens you know the dream.
If you have a garden you can visit, then you know too.
And if you have stood in a garden during magical golden hour...
Then you know for certain.
And I needn't say another thing.
But I do promise not to bore you to death about this green place.
Pie-crust promise that is.
Mary Poppins will tell you all about that.