“Everything is made out of magic, leaves and trees, flowers and birds, badgers and foxes and squirrels and people. So it must be all around us. In this garden — in all the places.” — The Secret Garden, by Frances Hodgson Burnett.
It is easy to get lost in a garden,
No matter how small it might be.
There you are, sitting in full possession of your mind
Ready to conjure great things that will soon become
A major motion picture, or, at the least, a popular novel.
When out of the corner of your eye you glimpse something across the courtyard.
It is remarkably fuchsia in color, made all the more radiant by a yellow backdrop.
All other thoughts must be put on hold
As we mount an investigation.
(I almost said “forthwith” but then I remembered this is 2023, not 1723.)
Things have a way of distracting me like that in the garden
Which really isn’t a garden but a walkway and courtyard overrun
In the most carefully choreographed way
With a dazzling array of plants, vines, flowers, crawling ivy, and treelings.
There is always something worth investigating, like
The way some plants rely on the stronger ones to guide them toward the sun,
The way the ants use some branches as interstate highways,
The way a crosshatching of myriad varieties
Can create a living wall in front of an adobe wall,
The way some plants begin to wither if they miss a single day’s watering,
While others carry on boldly green with a waxy sheen.
The way something, somewhere is always flowering
No matter the time of day or year.
This one pictured above is a branch of bougainvillea overtaking what
I think
Might be a Chinaberry cluster.
It held my attention for quite some time.
I lost track of time.
I fell into the colors and composition and all else seemed
Rather pedestrian by comparison.
As in a real jungle, there are cycles of life, growth, blooming, and death
It is a real passion play where all the characters vy for attention
And they get it,.
Usually in the morning when the thrushes, sparrows, doves, and starlings
Take up their cacophonous residency with the first slivers of dawn.
Time permitting, I too take up residency, several hours later with a cup of coffee,
a notebook, a computer, and a head full of ideas.
Days like today, I get lucky and something beautiful captures my gaze
And the head full of ideas goes off to do something else
While I sit, I breathe, I gaze, I marvel, I dream, I live within and at one
With the magic garden.
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Musings, Magic, San Miguel and More 
That’s good stuff Bob. You’re an upper case ee cummings.
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Hello from Cape Cod, Bob,
Once again you have inspired me to share your words with many gardening friends. And I do have MANY, being a Master Gardener trained in Barnstable County. Everyone who received this posting from me has commented on your thought process because it is what tends to happen to most gardeners, plants and trees take us away from the everyday into a special world all its own. Thank you. Sharon
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Thank you, Sharon! You are so kind to share the posts. Your Master Gardener work must be having a grand effect on the Cape. Last year while visiting family in South Chatham, we walked a lot through the neighborhood. I can’t ever recall it looking so lush and beautiful in my 50 years as a visitor and occasional interloper. The feeling has lingered.
For the past two nights we have been enjoying the annual bloom and bust of the Queen of the Night cactus. I can’t wait to post the pictures. Stunning that something so beautiful can unfold in the dark of night and wither by sunrise. It is as though some power put a curse on the plant long ago. Well, perhaps later today.
Here’s to rich soil beneath your nails and a blooming good summer on the Cape!
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