. . . gee, I don't know. Oh, wait--how about Gardens? I love to wander through gardens and touch the wooly plants and smell the fragrant plants and commune with my faves, the bees and the butterflies. This is the spectacular garden at Mt. Vernon.
The picture above is from Buena Creek Gardens. I love the rusty birdcage . . .
Note that "G is for Gardens," not Gardening, about which I wax and wane. I do love to garden--to plant, to water, even to weed; I'm fascinated by seeds and love to watch them germinate and sprout their tiny leaves--but I hate to prune, and I am quite hung up about planting something and then fretting about whether it was the right thing to plant, in the right spot, etc. Then I take a deep breath and realize that gardens are constantly changing, growing, and dying, and no garden is ever permanent--nor should it be. So maybe "G" is for gardens, gardening, and grace.
Oh: and "G" is for Gnomes . . .
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