Wild English Garden
It's green and rough and wonderful—my wild English garden. I like to sit out in the warm sunshine and listen to the wind blow the leaves in the trees. There's a large center area—completely overrun by foliage of all sorts. We had a new contender fighting for supremacy this year—Blackberry bushes! They're taking over—as long as they bear their fruit—they're welcome—which they did. Much farther in back—Raspberries are making a comeback—also welcome. In the Spring we start our color show extravaganza! It changes week to week month to month until all the colors of the rainbow have had their day as wild flowers I don't even know the names of sprout up for my kindly perusal. I call it my wild English garden because that's what it looks like—wild/untamed—northern climate so English and garden because everything's growing. It's in my backyard. I take a book to read and enjoy a Sun bath. The apple tree is old and on its way out, unfortunately, still a few runts fell for my consumption. The pear tree in back is taking a breather this year after last year's bumper crop, but a few fell for me to sample. The peach tree and rhubarb need something to perk them up, but since I don't have a green thumb like my mother—I'm afraid their fate is only to limp along. The yards to my right and left are taken over by concrete and buildings. I'm one of the few left in the neighborhood to still have a—well I might as well say it—A YARD! Grass to cut, trees to trim, bushes to prune. A little paradise park of my own. I make use of it. I hope I always will.
