Not a large garden but a cottage garden; not manicured and trimmed and finely rounded edges and borders, but a garden that makes its own shape, that makes its borders temporary, they may be different next summer, or they may be the same. More of a comfortable old chair with a throw and an open book on the floor than a formal garden with box hedges and roses. A garden of flowers, large displays of flowers, all perennials to reduce the work but also because perennials have a soul unto themselves, they return, they multiply, they are frugal in work but great in display. They return and return and always give more than they take. A place of solitude. A place of insects, butterflies, bees, and spiders, and of birds visiting the bird baths. A small garden that contains much. A garden born from where it began, a place where little was growing, a place of grass and a single old apple tree. Now, it is a place of walks between garden beds, flowers, and giving the appearance of being larger than it is.
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