The Meaning of Life (apart from 42)

For one reason or another I seldom post photos of beds or borders.  Generally the pictures I take are rather disappointing .  What I thought was a mass of colour and texture turns out to be rather dull.  There is little movement, no depth, no heart. So I stick to individual flowers, or new boots and the like. This evening as I sat and watched the 2m teasel outside my front window tango in the wind, depositing the reservoirs held in its leaf axils to the ground beneath, only to be refilled before the next gust, my mind drifted back to earlier this week.

Here is Max’s garden.  In the sunshine.  Full of flowers.  And joy.  Surely that is what it is all about.

14 thoughts on “The Meaning of Life (apart from 42)

  1. Like? I love it! If Max was a human, I’d declare my undying love for him, invite him to live with me happily ever after and we would maintain our borders into the sunset.

    Resident cat, however, doesn’t like dogs so I must dream on.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I know exactly what you mean. There is this boring quality in photos of masses of plants. This is true even in gardening books and magazines. Your photo, on the other hand, is lively. There is movement and interplay between the different plants and colours.


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