Where I work and where I live have always been two different kinds of gardening worlds. That is just the nature of things. I work for the people who can afford to hire a peasant gardener who will keep things neat and tidy. My new clients with the posh estate and my tiny little cozy cabin in the forest wilds make that contrast more sharp than ever.
We may have a lot of the same plants in common, but the presentation is entirely different. The peasant gardener's garden is the last garden on the list. Sometimes it doesn't even get on the list.
Twenty years from now I can see the Sisters walking home through the sunny utility meadow with a sack full of produce from the roadside vegetable garden in one hand, pulling weeds as they go. They are proving to be willing and capable weed pullers, even tackling the steel rooted Clematis virginiana. The wild place does not scare them.
A posh estate is not a vision I can foresee. I will always live half wild.
A fresh mowed path through the lush may have to suffice as the only touch of order that can exist in the wild place.
Planting, sowing, editing, visiting and sharing with The Sisters next door. The wild place will be a mighty fine estate.