Design that isn't Designed

Using what you have Garden Design, below.

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With delectable additions.

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Without fail, after a designed garden has aged, the best pictures are never the intended best pictures.

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I study these.  Ponder them.  Time passes.

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Most often, without answer.

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Yet.  No matter the scenario, I create a garden.
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Garden whisperer.
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At a jobsite, working in the mode of what exists, what is available, permutations in rivulets top-down in the brain, nothing else exists, nothing.  Moments of eternity.  No time, no hunger, no sense of breathing or heart beat, at one with, atonement.
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Then the general contractor, yelling across a meadow, hurry up these guys can't stand here all day.
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Ripped from atonement.
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Rivulets gone.  Into the present, only a distant memory of eternity.
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Guys coming in, plantings placed, me adjusting, adjusting, adjusting, what I can.  Just damn the aging body, plants heavier than me, must be moved a foot.  The men 'know', I am desperate.  Intuitive.  Their boss, the general contractor who they must satisfy, yet all of them, like a waltz, dipping in to my panic, helping, one human to another.
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Was on a panel judging garden entries for our state's largest trade group yesterday.  A particular home, a vacation home, magnificent in setting/architecture/landscape, we gave it the top award.  Rare the individual in any era acquiring a gettaway home like this one.  Yet, my heart doesn't want to own/enjoy that home.   Rather, dozens of those homes, I want to design/install the gardens.  The wealth of my soul.  Atonement.
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 " He who is born with a silver spoon in his mouth is generally considered a fortunate person, but his good fortune is small compared to that of the happy mortal who enters the world with a passion for flowers in his soul."  Celia Thaxter, An Island Garden, page 4.
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Garden & Be Well,    XO Tara
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Pic Nest Pretty Things

Was given, An Island Garden, by my mother-in-law, Jenny, decades ago.  Have read it several times, and will read it many times more.