The first two years I went off to college, my mother sent a begonia plant with me for my dorm room. They always started with beautiful flowers and she assured me that even when the flowers were gone, the plant would be a happy addition. So each summer’s end I would bring the poor, bright thing with me and each Thanksgiving break I would bring it back either completely dead, or in very sad shape. I confess, I have a secret fear that one day I will stand at the judgement bar and be held accountable for the plants I failed to keep alive.

I am a little better at it now. I am the proud plant mom of two house plants who are both alive and well. Admittedly one is an air plant – basically impossible to kill, but the other one is a spider plant – I think that one being alive is a legit accomplishment. Even so, I still lack some serious confidence about lawning and gardening on a larger scale. For this reason, my tiny yard has a gardner. Not me. A person with expertise and a green thumb. I find this investment well worth it in the face of my green-challenged digits.

The thing is, though, that gardens are needful in the world, because sometimes this world feels like it’s just no good. A zen garden on a major scale that I could stroll through would be a lovely way to remind my senses that beauty is alive and present here. Since I don’t have a large scale zen garden in my own yard to walk, I spend a lot of time walking in the woods and through my neighborhood looking for beautiful sights.

I suppose I have to admit that I’m a garden mooch. Instead of creating a garden in my own yard, I enjoy everyone else’s gardens when I’m out walking. The gardens in the neighborhood and the flowers out in the woods right me. It settles me in a way that only two other things do. Maybe we’ll also visit those two things later, but for now, I invite you to stroll through the garden I create in my imagination each time I go for a walk. While I’m out there, I photograph things which remind me that this world is a beautiful place, after all. Thank you for coming along with me and I hope you find it as beautiful and settling as I do.

Moss is Spring’s first hint of rebirth.
A Tulip on fire.
The tiny forget me not.
Daffodils on OakCrest
The Guardian of the Drive.
A Place to Rest
Brilliance near the Frog Pond
Not Quite Warm Enough Yet, Bub.
Six Feet Tall – the Photo Doesn’t Do It Justice
Wild Violets Everywhere!
Two Trees, One Photo
Working Hard
Almost Didn’t See This One Coming.
Flood Plain Forest
Roses Along the Iron Fence.

I hope you enjoyed our walk and I’d love for you to come along any time.