No, not the rock kind. Our haphazard greenscape along our rock wall. Every year, we overbuy flowers and enthusiastically plant them, forgetting in a few weeks to water and weed them, so they invariably die. Unless they are extremely hardy (and really, who wants to baby a plant? How did species make it this far without us??). Like hostas, the ever-present purple-bloom spiderwort (my favorite), a miniature rose bush, and fragrant, quickly spreading mint. Still, we cheerfully putter in our garden each year and enjoy the early endeavors.
But this year has been different. We're actually still taking care of our plants. Every morning while waiting for the bus, Sis and I peruse the wall, checking on new buds--look, some strawberries!--and even weeding! We're learning the names of the plants together, noticing more bugs and birds, absorbing the natural cycle of life. Then as the bus pulls away, I find a few spare minutes to water what needs it, which hasn't been very necessary with all this rain. I like watering the plants, standing there directing the spray, listening to the sounds of the morning. It's rather meditative.
Our plants are still very much on their own--no fertilizer or weed killer, haphazard weeding and watering, so only the strong ones make it. But we're giving them a chance . . . and it's benefitting us all.
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