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for me if it were done all at once, with only upkeep for me to do. It is the doing that finds joy, as it is the living that brings happiness.

Sometimes I start in the middle and sometimes on the edge. However, always there is a vision before me of where I am going. It is not written in stone. No, it flows, as do my garden paths. They go from room to room with little unexpected surprises at every turn. A birdbath, a bench, a brilliant splash of color against a muted green backdrop, an old moss covered stump with tiny fairies or gnomes peeking out. Anything to give the senses a little lift, a spark, a smile.

I am at the ripe old age of sixty now. There are too many lessons learned from my gardening to list them here. I am still learning, and will continue to do so as long as there is another bud to watch bloom. Or another seed to plant and watch as it lifts its little arms to heaven as if in thanksgiving for its first view of this amazing planet we live on. I want that kind of joy in my life each day as I greet the new dawn. My garden is still teaching e and changing me.

Once I would have confined my plantings in beds behind rock borders. Sometimes I do now. But for the most part I let them creep out of the beds and some of the rocks have found a home in the middle of the bed. So here are other things I learned: to give in and go with the flow, to let there be balance and harmony. To let my flowers do what they do best, find a comfortable place to sit and view the world.

I like to think that they are watching me as I am watching them, and am convinced I have heard them snickering in the past about some of my mistakes. That is okay with me. I owe my garden a great amount of gratitude for all the wonderful things it has taught me. Even the hard way.

Learn more about this author, Pamela Kay.
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