When you come to see my garden you will say nice things and compliment me on it. Thank you.
But you will not know what I know. You won't, for instance, have any idea how many years it took to get some shade on the patio so we can sit there and visit.
I tried umbrellas and an expensive awning. I experimented with moving the patio set all around, I had a small sourwood tree growing by the wall, and finally after ten years a transplanted river birch gives us enough shade to sit under in the afternoon. Finally, after ten years, we can sit out here. You have no idea how I marvel at that every day.
You won't see the hummingbirds. They have been swarming the feeder this August. There are five now, so I assume some are the new fledglings. They come to the feeder every five or six minutes, but you won't see them. When there are people sitting nearby they get shy. But when I am alone they come and feed right next to me, flirt with me at times, and swoop around.
When you come to visit you will not hear the water fountain. We'll be talking, and you won't be aware of the gentle trickling sound that burbles when the sun is out and stops when the sun goes behind a cloud. The pump is powered by a small solar panel.
When I sit by myself I hear it. It trickles with the sunshine, it goes silent when clouds move in. It's like hearing sunshine.
Our conversation will also mask the low drone coming from the anemones near the patio wall. When I am here alone, I hear a constant resonating hum when I walk past these 'Robustissima' anemone flowers. It's dozens of bees going crazy all day long. We'll be talking too much to hear them, but they make a noise like small electric engines.
Maybe we'll it on the porch instead of the patio when you come to see me. You'll think the white Rose of Sharon outside the porch window looks good, but you won't know that I cut off a third of it this spring and had to clean out so much winter kill that as a result, there are very few flowers this summer.
You won't see that, but I will. It's barely blooming at all this year compared to other summers.
There are so many sights and sounds in my garden I wish you could appreciate. Of course when you come to see me it will be raining and we won't even be out there. Or it will be too cold or too dark.
Oh well. Come see me anyway. I'll make you a nice salad of grilled peaches and prosciutto and tell you all about the neat things in my garden.