Funky Gardens

I'll soon be taking a chain saw to some cedars here at the homestead. Nothing too drastic, but my oaks and pecans need room to grow. I'm excited about the extra room I'll have for gardens. My yard is quickly becoming a hodgepodge of different small gardens all over the place. I have a trellised rose garden in one corner, with a small patio that I made from discarded tile I found when I moved in. I have a succulent/cactus garden growing in the stubborn rocky shadows of three cedars. There's the fountain, with its overflowing of geraniums and jasmine. The pond itself is filled with water lillies and pickerel--a perfect playground for the goldfish and frogs.

There's the herbs and the vegetables, the fenceline planted with peas. I have a shade garden that's fat with hostas, ferns, and rhododendron. I have a primitive treehouse that's become home to pots of ivy, blood red pansies, and begonias now that my boys have outgrown it. I have a moon garden that only blooms at night. Even with all this, there are so many things that I still want to do: a tarot garden, a cat garden, gazebos, shrines, a yoga garden...sacred places for all the things I love. I want a napping garden and a writing garden. I would love to have a small writer's hut a la George Bernard Shaw.

I'm going to (FINALLY!) learn to weld this summer, so I imagine my sculptures of recycled metal and such will only add to the crazy patchwork. I love funky gardens, gardens that look lived in and worked on. I can't think of anything I enjoy sharing more than the earth that surrounds my house and everything it sustains. I paint for fun, but my gardens are the real canvas of my life.