Flowers & Questions

The garden is at it again. All the plans of color arrangement, height placement, watering groupings - all out the window. We're at that point in the summer when the flowers just take over and do whatever ol' thing they want to do. Which is also the point in the summer when I as a gardener decides to let them. Let them be who they want to be.
Moss roses mound and cascade, completely swamping the geraniums. (Any guess which of those I actually paid for?) Zinnias come up right willy nilly - spouting off in shades like Starburst candies. It becomes a jungle out there and, well, I love it.
Love the randomness and crowdedness, profusion and confusion, the total lack of permission they asked to move about at will. To grow faster, taller, shorter, slower - whatever their little hearts desired.
So how does that fit into my life? This Monday? What can I take from the display of life in my backyard?
To go with the flow? That life will find a way? To not take my planning so seriously?
Honestly, I'm not sure. I just know the garden, the flowers, moved me this morning. Spoke to me. Maybe I'm not being quiet enough to hear what was being said? Maybe I try to find meaning when there is none?
Well, I'm just going to take it as a good sign that I have lots of questions.
Because, when I run out of questions - things get a little scary.

So What?

The days are getting shorter, which means the nights are getting longer. This morning we drank our coffee out on the deck in the dark. It's also very cloudy here this morning. In that pre-sunrise, cloudy gloom my white geraniums, moss roses, petunias, and begonias looked almost ghostly. The vibrant colors that shine in the daytime appeared gray, but the white petals glowed.
An article in Southern Living a couple years ago introduced me to white gardens and what happens to them in fog, at dusk or dawn, or on a moon-lit night. Up to that point, I never even considered planting white flowers. However, now they're among my favorite.
Some friends are expecting their first grandbaby (Hi Rob and Sherry). When their daughter was only a few weeks along, she had an ultrasound and the parents got to see their baby's heart beating. At that time the baby was actually about the size of a grain of rice. A grain of rice.
But so what? Each one of us began tiny and white flowers are common.
I think sometimes I wear blinders on my eyes and my heart because to actually process and take in everything would leave my mouth hanging open in awe. It might prove to be too much.
However, miracles are still miracles, even when I don't acknowledge them. A miracle does not need my blessing to happen. But I do control whether I take the blinders off or leave them in place.
Miracles are still miracles.

Never let 'em see you Sweat

Walking past the deck doors yesterday, I noticed my zinnias were hanging low. Curled leaves, turned dusty green, drooped beside orange flowers with sagging petals. This wet summer has made me even less vigilant on watering. Most of the flowers I plant in pots don't show that daily wilt of weaklings like impatiens or fuchsia. Much too fussy and demanding for me. Geraniums like to go dry and then get a ton of water - I can do that. Lantana love the desert-like conditions of my deck and my sporadic watering habits. Same for moss roses. Only problem is that by time they do tell me they're dry - they're most likely dead. So the wilted zinnias caused everyone to get a drink and an instant lift.
A friend called last night and she was having a horrible day. She said it only started getting better when she acknowledged it and shared it. I have an e-mail prayer group for my writing because I need to have a few folks I trust to let me vent, cry, express my fear, doubt and panic. Many times just typing the words starts the healing. Then to know others are reading about my pain and praying for me. It's like a cool drink of water on a hot day.
Writing yesterday's blog about the darkness of the tunnel was hard - to lay it out on the line and say, I'm struggling. But being strong all the time is a fallacy. A lie. Portraying never flagging strength is a sure sign of inner weakness. To never stop and rest is to deny being human. To want to be God.
And I'm pretty sure that's what got Adam and Eve in trouble.
God knows we have limits and gave us each other to lean on. I need to be more like my zinnia and let others see my struggle. Not like my lantana - only admitting failure when I'm dead.

I want to make God LOL

Winners of the Overachievers Award of Summer 2009 - Orange Zinnia and Pale Yellow Moss Rose.
The moss rose is in a planter sitting on the deck railing. It mounds higher than the geraniums it shares the pot with and then hangs down past the railing. The zinnia is in a big planter in the corner and it's hard to see the red and white geraniums behind it.
I didn't plant either the moss rose or the zinnia. In the gardening world they are called, "volunteers". Both plants come from seeds left by last year's flowers. When I readied the planters with new dirt this spring, these volunteers were no where in sight. I carefully placed the already good-sized plants I'd bought where I wanted them. Then at some point the unplanned flowers showed up. I recognized the leaves so I didn't pull them up - a little spontenity is good. However, now they boutifully show up the plants that were supposed to be there.
Wonder why?
To live inside other's expectations and plans may lead to a perfectly acceptable and happy life. My geraniums and ivy I planted are color coordinated, the correct height, in the right about of sunshine and meet all my expectations. Is that what I want from life? To match my surroundings? Fit the mold? Meet other's expectations?
Is it pure joy de vivre - joy of living - that gives my unplanned plants their boost? I want that. I want to surprise the world.
I want to make God laugh out loud.