He scoffs at the mulch I've laid everywhere, calling it lazy gardening. I call it water conservation. He s been retired so long he s forgotten what it s like to work a full time job and have no spare moments to either weed or water. A homemade obelisk carrying purple podded pole beans rises out of a small lavender forest of anise hyssop and wild Monarda. Thyme, mint and sage cozy up to dianthus and daylilies.
Peppers play hide and seek with dwarf nicotiana.
He hates it. I adore the spontaneity of it, the sheer exuberance. I stand on his deck gazing out over his garden and admire the neatness, but find it boring. It looks just like every other vegetable garden I've ever seen. Now, don t get me wrong.