The author of that frightful bit of doggerel that has
somewhere in it “a poem as lovely as a tree,” did touch on one of the truths of
nature. The view of the skies above or the water ahead is as simple and
satisfying in terms of beauty as one could wish. Certainly nothing in my carefully
contrived if not consciously poetic garden comes close.
But I love it for all its awkwardly placed plantings—all the
tall things in the front, the sun-loving lilies stretching forward in their
partial shade, the voracious ivies, the rampaging wisteria. I’m not there now,
but I know these lilies—the same I posted on last year—are currently in bloom, and quite a bit more. Check here for some more GBBD meanderings, and of course here.