|Listen! Can you hear them, too? :)|
These flowers can send my memories back to childhood summers faster than anything, I think. While my mother worked and weeded and worried over hers, I would pick the single blossoms and play them like fairy trumpets, tasting their sweet centers on my lips.
I don't work much where my own garden is concerned. I rarely weed it and I mostly don't worry over it. I simply watch it with wonder.
I know it deserves the kind of strict attention that my mom would administer, and I hope it realizes that I would give this if I could. I can't. Our time together is more Quality than Quantity as there are other magickal things I watch with wonder, too.... I imagine my phlox telegraphing to me, "No problem! It's the thought that counts, lovey." And then going on to whisper, "We prefer to be wild and wonder-full anyway."
Me too. :)