When we arrived at the house, I headed for the back deck immediately to see my garden. What greeted me from the french doors was an insanely wild landscape of fertile abandon. Sunflowers towered over everything. Queen Anne's lace stood 6 feet tall. Lettuce plants stood tall and stately like sentinels beside the Queen, gone to seed and proud to have left the realm of the lowly leafy vegetable. Red juicy tomatoes dotted the tableau. The opposite edge of the garden was lined with bright orange crocosmia in full bloom. The deep green of immature pumpkins peaked from the depths of the undergrowth. In the far back, the jungle of bean vines laced themselves over and under and across the strings tied for them, their weight bearing the strings at half height and the wooden poles peeking through the foliage only at the very top. My garden was a veritable wilderness of lush and fruitful insanity, as much like it's owner as it could possibly be!!! A painting of my soul, of sorts.
The day I cooked the spaghetti sauce, the aroma wafted out into the front yard. The jars are sealed with the sweet goodness of paste tomatoes, walla walla onions, garlic, basil, rosemary, oregano, fresh ground pepper and pink himalayan salt.
Nestled in amongst the wildness of our garden was a rabbits nest with two babies. The had fur, tiny tails and ears about an inch long. The mother did not return to the nest at some point after the first day we came home. I found the babies on the third day we were home but was not sure if she was still tending them or not. It turned out that she did not come back, and the babies perished. Had I known she was not returning, there would have been time to save them. It was a very sad life drama unfolding in the midst of such a wild and beautiful place. Now every time I go out into the yard I grieve those sweet baby rabbits curled in their nest in the middle of my garden.