Glenda’s Garden

Glenda and I have been friends since 7th grade when we shuffled textbooks and folders in school lockers next to each other. We also both played the flute in band, although Glenda always played better than I did.  Glenda is one of those genuine Midwestern gals that you like right away and keep liking.  She is also a gardener….and apparently a budding photographer.

Awhile back, Glenda posted pictures on Facebook of the flowers in her yard. They brightened my day and left such an impression on me that I found myself thinking of them into the evening and night.  Trying to describe them in my half sleep – half awake state led to a personal game of words and alliterations.  Following are Glenda’s pictures and my descriptions.

 

Glenda’s garden is a flowing fountain of fabulously flourishing fragrant flowers and a fantasy of foliage.

It is a heavenly haven of horticultural hues.

 

Her bright back yard of balanced buds and blooms bubbling and bursting upward beckons me to view more of her beautiful botanical bounty.

It is a venue of vibrancy, a wildlife wonderland.

 

My deeply downcast mood defers to the delightful distraction of the dainty daisies where they were distributed as part of a  detailed design.

Appearing like a daytime fireworks display, this explosion of nature creates a paradise parade.

    

In a lavish landscape of lilies, I notice the carefully cultivated contours clothed in clusters of color and likely covered by carefully crawling caterpillars.

       

I am mindful that this is a marvelously maintained mountain of a mastered medley of miniature miracles; a tastefully tended terrain of textures.

 

My eyes pour over a plethora of petals poised in position to pop into plump purple peaks perfectly performing for photographic pleasure or gathered posies.

 

The yard is a relaxing refuge where one can roam through radiance, while a rustic relic reaches out from the past.   The site summons you to stroll or sit among the shades of scented scenery.

   

 

I’ve noticed that many of the pleasures I enjoy now, like these blooms, are rooted in my past.  When I was a girl, my mother would take my sister and me to visit Mrs. Swenson, her older friend down the street who had gorgeous gardens.  With delight, we would smell and touch the flowers tended by the daintiest of ladies.  A true artist, her perfectly decorated house filled with her paintings was as skillfully pieced together as her gardens. When she spoke to my sister and me, she naturally bent to our level and her words were laced with warmth as she called us sweetie and honey in a melodic voice.  She was a joyful woman in a happy place.

Friends and flowers mixed together create a bouquet of blessings.  Thank you, Glenda, for sharing your garden through pictures, it brought back old memories and created new pleasures.

 

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