Oh, The Backyard.

The neglect of our backyard has once again led to a willful microcosm of blooms and wilderness. Weeds are prime examples of survivors belting it out at the bottom of the food chain and being heard - mind you - with such emphatic discord. Yet in the minutia of things, they are sights to behold up close. There is a note of innate beauty and tenderness in its organic hankering of mass destruction. They are delicate and harsh, stubborn and unforgiving, let’s not forget: a sore sight to behold.

The weeds per se aren’t entirely to blame for our poorly executed backyard. Seasons shifted, lemons grew and roses bloomed all with just the nurturing hands of nature, fertilized and nourished by my neglect.  And I say this without remorse. I simply shrugged my shoulders and went “hmph!” oh well. 

And because I have no control over the wildlife in our backyard (in my attempt to liven up the vibe of our borrowed 80's house) we’ve adopted a Peace Lily, which I admittedly had no idea was called that because as far as the grocery tag goes what we have is a $9.00 Spathiphyllum.  It caught my attention because it was vibrant and verdant, the perfect size for the cobalt blue pot I bought for $5.00 months ago, and because it undeniably bore a resemblance to Vulcan ears, that we simply couldn’t help but name (him), Spock. 

Spock, the Peace Lily meet...the internet. 

And Spock's distant cousin, Gene. 

The fact that I had to Google How to take care of a Peace Lily plant  means: A. I have no idea what I’m doing. B. I am still capable of killing the most house friendly plant there is. C. It turns out I didn’t inherit a single green gene from my grandmother, the plant whisperer. She can pull a Moses make a dead twig come to life. 

Nonetheless, I found it to be the perfect opportunity to start bringing in some flowers inside our house and while on a creative spell somehow managed to use a bottle of Sweet Basil Pasta sauce to and a bit of old gingham fabric from Mandarin’s blanket as a shabby chic vase. These flowers take such little space in the home but makes all the difference. They bring an air of renewing energy with a hint of nostalgia. 

No matter how bad a day must seem, the roses are a dependable bed to fall on. Their unkempt nature only adds to the charm, and glancing at them once in awhile makes a foggy day look ever so hopeful.  

And the weeds... 

So delicate.

Never mind the weeds. 

As long as they don’t completely take over.  Either way, they’re poignant reminders that there too is something wild and free quietly thriving in the shadows of the most organized facets of our routine-laden lives.  

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