Today we went on a garden tour in Old Fig. Such pretty gardens! Iso counted the flamingo flair in one– finding all of them, I am proud to say, including a tiny glass flamingo bead in a puddle in a wine bottle border. Impressive, right? The owner of that garden had an outdoor shower and said she never took showers indoors anymore. I wondered if she only took showers at night, then? I didn’t want to ask. Also, that garden had a smoke tree, which was gorgeous, and I want one.
The above picture, however, was taken at a really interesting garden– interesting to me because the house was built in 1912. It had to have been one of the earliest in the Fig Garden area. The house itself was not huge, but there was a mother-in-law add-on. The gardens were a really good mixture of rambling and manicured. I tend to like a rambling sort of garden– the kind that encourages wandering. I get no peace in a Zen garden, truly. Well-manicured gardens always put me on edge, like performance art. I think, “Am I going to be the one to mess this thing up? Should I really be stepping here? Is this art or a bench?”
That really did happen once. I went with a friend to the Fresno Art Museum, and she sat on what she thought was a very artistic bench– an aqua log with burnished gold texturing sponged onto it. It wobbled and she hopped off. I get that feeling when I’m in a very tidy garden, too, and I just don’t think I should feel like that around plants, you know?