Ezra, while looking out the kitchen window the other day- looking out into our backyard told me plain and simple that our garden was, "ugly". (Oh, the all too true tongue of a five year old!) He also said it looked like a "jungle" and asked me (rather accusingly, I might say) when was I EVER going to get outside and start weeding. Hmmmm. The garden is like the ocean tide...you never turn your back on it, because if you do- you will get swept away- not by frothy water, but by weeds. Alas my fair garden, I have done nothing but turn my back on you all season, and what is usually a beautiful (mostly) weed free country garden is just a plain old tangle of golden rod, poke weed, morning glories and countless others in need of a good comb and cut.
I turn my head (and my eyes) away and instead look to these prints from time gone by. Dreamy Victorian prints. Completely beautiful. Completely weed free.
I know there are beauties such as these in my garden. Somewhere. I keep saying that maybe tomorrow I will get the chance to get out there...
then tomorrow becomes yet another tomorrow, and I have yet to make it out to the ahem, "jungle".
I've stopped telling myself, and my plants that there is hope for this season. Maybe one day soon I will just surprise myself, and them...and they will welcome me back, all is forgiven, with open branches.
However, I am fairly certain I saw one of my flowers, in the midst of the sea of weeds shoot up a middle petal at me. (Again, rather accusingly....)
How is that even possible? I guess its deserved. I'm turning back to the prints....
Found via here. Prints from the British Museum. Thank you.