I commented to my dad the other day that I’m quite envious of his yard and others which are lush and beautiful with a wide variety of plants. My own yard never seems to reach that state of verdant grace. (Poetic words, aren’t they? heh.) Granted, the longest I’ve ever lived in one place since leaving my parents’ house is about 6 years, so I haven’t had much of a chance to cultivate a large garden.
I’m very fond of perennial gardens, which don’t require yearly reinvestment of money (except possibly to add new plants). I love herb gardens, and lush woodland gardens (such as my parents have in their backyard). I even find beauty in the sparse desert gardens filled with cactus and succulents.
I have hope for my garden, wherever I am, if I can just remember my dad’s words, paraphrased, “The most beautiful gardens happen one plant at a time.” So, I came home from my dad’s house with oak trees for my backyard, daylilies for my front yard, and iris for either side of the house. If I were to try to buy all of that right now, I’d be digging for loose change to feed my kids. So, I’m very thankful to my parents for sharing the wealth in their yard.
That’s the other nice thing about perennial gardens: You can share their beauty with others, one plant at a time.
