one can never tell, for we all tend our own land in our own time, in our own way, a hodge-podge of native plants, mixed in with various varieties, maybe foreign by design, others we are informed to plant by the agrarian hierarchy, some thrive, for a time, some wilt, some sneak about like vines, others bear fruit, quite the menagerie when you have some age to till your acreage, a simple stroll reveals the years, the sparkling blossoms, the empty half rotten stumps, some only peak in seasons, to sleep for some time before a return for a short burst run, others are marathons, ever-green even against even the coldest sun, yes, these are the shades of my garden.
once I did walk these paths with another, some years ago, where we built our own little section together, certainly distinct, intertwined, more vibrant than just mine, but again, that was many years ago, a pathway I can not even find anymore, and the memories, well, they are all in pictures as the physical representation has disappeared into the earthen past, even to the point where I question if that was real anyway, who was that person, back then, not these same two feet I think, or would like to, so I tend to my own now, again, but I am changed like a river that meets a fork, or perhaps a dam, I would hope to be still flowing out over the open land – exploring, planting as I go, in my own way, perhaps to find another, to share, an eve, for if there is one might I find such a union again. (stream of consciousness post)

notes: so what are your thoughts? can you picture the garden you have created? beauty, beast… and all ?