abandoned gardens
make of a cave painting man
a periwinkle
I just had to respond to this post with a haiku.
Love your play on the word periwinkle.
I love the wild woods myself, especially those that exist on the borders of human gardens and forests. I remember an abandoned garden from my pubescence, walled with high hedges, that I swore took me to another dimension every time I walked through the falling archway leading into it. Maybe that mix of human and wild is a portal to more. Because of this old garden, I try to make my gardens look like fairies tend them. Many wildflowers are left to grow (I found tiny mullein seedlings in this one just this morning that made me very happy), even poison ivy which, like the periwinkle (I will never call it vinca again after reading your post) I waged war on, only to concede defeat. It, unlike this periwinkle, found its places and stayed in them. We must have made a pact. I came to love the stuff - it's very beautiful.
I also try to make a spot look totally wild, planting all sorts of stuff I would find in the woods: bloodroot, jack in the pulpit, trillium, ferns and the like. But no lily of the valley!!! EGADS that is another weed that I rip up by the roots the moment I find it in any yard of mine.
Frogs and ants invading the house?! Off with your heads you rascals!
A Haiku poem that sums it all up! Thank you! I could have spared a few syllables it seems.
When I saw the periwinkle I thought I knew it, but as I have this Laissez-faire relationship with plants I realised that I didn't... looked it up with its Danish name and recognised it as something I have seen in parks. As I write I adore the garden as much as I adore my wife, who knows her way around simple beauty in a way that I often do not.There's to many frogs and ants in my head.