Gardens don’t just happen. They come about as a product of intention, tending, time, and a little bit of biological luck. One might say they’re a lot of work. Maybe even too much work. But the soul of a place, the enrichment from the fruits, or harvests, or even just being there with all senses, these are rewards worth any of the perceived toil. A garden can be a messy wild place, a dormant place, a manicured place, a thriving place. All of it a part of the seasons, all of it pointing to the balance of what it means to be a garden. I’m so grateful for these spaces.

To Bryan, Happiest 16th Anniversary. I love you.