hiding

I look at the never ending flower borders at the farmette. Borders without borders. Unlike anyplace where I have planted, they don’t have definition. They’re not strips, circles or kidneys. They start at the house and shoot outwards. As far as my time and budget will allow.

Which means I will never stop. The “just one more” syndrome. I got work to do. Oh, let me plant just one more! I have no money left for the month. Oh, enough for just one more flowering perennial!

No... no... Self restraint. Remember where this kind of thinking lead me a few years back? (No? Good. Mistakes of the past.)

Today I go for the poor man’s solution: I raid the hostas growing under the boxelder tree by the old barn. They’re smothered by weeds, raspberry canes and invasives I cannot name. Transplant time.

Ed sits under a tree and watches. Isis suns himself in the lily border. And we spot the first green frog of the season, hidden. Her color so perfectly matches the green of the flower leaf, that she cannot be seen, unless you look for her.





I can understand why, for a while, some frog (or person) might want to stay hidden. Retreat, see no one, take in the sun and the fragrance of the season.