Squash blossoms soon, and other things...

This is the cutest little pea plant.

This, not this

More on the oak tree...

It's true -- you can't change the oak tree. You must accept what it is. But you don't have to accept your particular relationship to it. This is discernment. In yoga, the mantra "neti, neti," the heart of wisdom.

If the oak tree springs up in your vegetable garden, you can transplant it somewhere else, somewhere more appropriate. You have to accept what it is. But you don't have to accept where it is. As for my sunflower, I decided since it wasn't in my vegetable garden, depriving my little planties of precious nutrients, I would let it stay where it is. I want to see it grow and make a flower bigger than my head.

But if you don't want a relationship with that oak tree, or that flower, and what you really want is a rose bush, you better plant one of those. And watch out for the thorns.

Morning ... afternoon

I wish you could see the detail of the scalloped edges on this little bud. I loved how you could see the little bit of red peeking out.


Glorious little thing.

A mountain is a mountain

This is a weed. It's four feet tall and I just noticed it! OK, it's a sunflower (I think). But I didn't plant it. I wasn't expecting it. And it was four feet tall before I ever noticed it.

I was stunned. I come out to the garden every day and look at everything. I thought I looked at everything. I wish I could describe the feeling that came over me when I realized it was there. And there are two more just like it within a couple of feet! Incredible! Impossible!

There are so many apt metaphors in this, I don't even know where to start.

There's something about awareness.

There's something about only seeing what we want to see, or what we expect to see.

But that would be all about me!

It's also a pretty amazing thing in and of itself. The stalk is almost an inch thick and covered with fuzz. The leaves are big and hardy, broad and bold, brazenly hogging up all the sun. It reaches decidedly skyward, with abandon, arms outstretched, piercing the clouds like a dare. It was designed to spring up out of nowhere, to shock and awe.

A yoga teacher once advised me: don't be mad at the oak tree because it's not a rose bush. You can prune it and feed it, yell at it, coax it, make promises to it... it is still going to be an oak tree.

I'm going to keep this weed.

Hey! I found something to blog about!

Does the "world" care about my garden? Probably not... but I feel the need to write about it and I think this just might be the perfect place to do so. It even fits in with the over all theme.

I've never had a hobby before. But I wake up and I want to come out to my garden.
I want to see what's grown... or what's been eaten, and by what. I want to sit down and pull weeds, methodically, one by one. I want to look at every little plantie and see if there's a new flower or a veggie.

Since some things were already there in my garden, it's also been fun to see what "weeds" pop up. These are things deliberately planted by the former occupant/gardener. There's some kind of persisent little vine that wants to come up. I've replanted it somewhere else as landscaping. Maybe it will grow there and be something. Also, I never saw purple shamrock before, but that came up on its own. I bought some more and now have started a purple shade garden beneath the magnolia tree. It has the shamrocks, purple heart (formerly known as wandering Jew), and purple and green bugleweed -- so cute.

The magnoilia tree has so many buds! I can't wait for it to bloom.

So, I will keep posting updates about my garden on FaceBook, because it's fun to get the comments and advice. But I'll also be writing here. I'm learning things from this garden. It's probably the most yogic or zen thing I've done. And it's so healing.