I like lovely gardens with well-tended flowers and shrubs and hedges – gardens with stepping stones leading to a gazebo-type structure with comfy chairs  and places for glasses and pitchers and books. I am not of the caliber to bring such a place into being without a mentor and extra hands. So I have decided to find the beauty in wilderness.

I can’t call it a cultivated wilderness – that would take planning; it is more of a draw the line in the grass type of wilderness. Some might not choose the word wilderness; they might aptly name it weeds and overgrowth. I can’t say that they would be wrong.

It is, however, how one decides to mate their talents and resources – or lack of – with a goal that is believable and doable. I might be in the territory of semantics and different drummers here – the territory of the untaken path taken. But I am pretty good at making arguments for the unorthodox way of doing things; it works out well for me. Not that others agree with them, but the major premise is that what I am doing pleases me – that I like it.  Once that stopped a mainstream, traditional decor person in her tracks: She remarked most people did so and so and I replied I ignored that trend because the way I did it pleased my mood and my mind and made be feel good. I think she actually considered using her own preference regarding a House & Garden trend a couple of times thereafter.

But I am rambling and I know it, so I will be a bit more specific. I have decided to let nature have its way in some areas of the couple of yards I have some say in. For instance, all over town, I see neatly trimmed hedges and other plants contained within corresponding right angled flower beds. I have chose to let my hedge be adorned with grape vines cascading over it and myrtle gone wild as an edging undergrowth. I’m only trimming the vines enough to ensure the health of the hedge itself.

I’ve let the trees at the end of the hedge and driveway  -where a woodpile and fence follow the turn – grow and sprout out uneven branches. I’ve pruned some, but not for the sake of evenness; I do it for the sake of keeping  the canopy which reaches out, providing privacy and shade, to be functional. I’ve tossed wildflower seeds willy-nilly into the area where myrtle and new shoots of hedge poke up. And I leave it alone.

Then I mow the area between this  – okay, I’ll call it overgrowth – and put lots of grass seed down and line the edge of the driveway with thick red mulch.

I find it restful to look at – like viewing the free spirit of nature.

I suppose I will have to find an artful garden sign that says something about nature in its original state to forestall offers to trim and shape and, yes, weed.

At my LaGrange County home, I am taking the same tack – although I need to think it all out, making certain the rose bushes are the continuation of plants brought out from back east in the latter part of the 19th century are well-maintained. I can’t remember them not being there each summer, first blooming a deep pinkish rose and fading in stages to white. And the trumpet vine that took it on the chin when lightning hit its supporting tree has ventured forth again. I will baby that for awhile.

Lots of places, though, are becoming oasis of wild grasses of varying colors. (And the mowed paths among them have become – I hope temporarily – driving lanes for practice for grandkids.) Yes, I will have to keep an eye on the herb garden so that those fragrant plants are not crowded out. I mean the smell too good when I mow around them not to see that they flourish.

Two days ago I paused the mower and took a picture on one of the paths I have carved out by outbuildings and woodpiles. And then Shane left the back porch and came running up to bark at me to keep going. It’s not a great picture but tiny yellow flowers were tucked in the green and I found them pleasant to look at.

I snapped the shot and went on . . . and Shane went back to the screen porch from which he supervised.