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Photo by Lucie Hošová on Unsplash

“You know — I treat my rose garden like it is a cat trying to find a spot to lay down upon my lap. I like to hold it up as if I am a child who has won the world’s greatest cotton candy prize — as if I am about to enter a bubble boy gladiator competition, but for naturalists. I don’t understand why anyone else would treat the gardens that line their house in any other way — as if we have to teach geraniums the value of a Bergmanesque silence and what it means when your cape blows in the wind by the edge of the island and a knight errant calls out, ‘Who goes there?’”

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