Lopsided

No matter what I do, the flower bed grows lopsided.

Case in point: the oriental poppies. They're the orange ones out there. They started blooming on the left-hand side. Now they're about finished on the left, but in full flourish on the right. Lopsided.

When I planted the garden, I placed everything in balance. But it has not remained that way. The purple coneflowers have spread commandingly on one side but not on the other; the shasta daisy weighs more heavily on the right; the lupins on the left didn't come back this year, nor did the blue flax on the right. There's a thick patch of hollyhocks (my favourites) on one side at the back, but there were only two on the other; I had to move things around this spring to even it all out, and still I know it won't be what I imagine.

It's wet out there this morning. This is taken through the living room window.

Some things are simply out of our control; out of mine, anyway. I've come to see that. I did my best when planning the perennial garden you see above; I've added plants carefully where I thought they'd most please my eye; after that, every summer it's a crapshoot. They do what they want.

And really, that is not so bad. For me it's an exercise in "letting it be." Appreciating things as they are instead of wishing they were otherwise.