The awesome co-hosts for the November 7 posting of the IWSG are
I used to plant my flower beds simply according to the plants’ needs – sunlight, moisture, soil nutrients, space required. Since becoming an author, my gardens have experienced a quantum shift in diversity, content, architecture – and personality. They almost mirror the building of plot, backstory, dialogue, and character. Now that does sound pretty far fetched, right? It is if you enjoy the rigid structure of formal gardens with masses of immaculately trimmed hedges, perfectly pruned rose bushes, and stately ornaments. You probably wont find many nefarious characters slithering under the cool shade of blue and white Hostas, or bright red Ladybugs seeking refuge under the Peony leaves.
Instead of rows of pink petunias, I dare to place the delicate and shy Lamb’s Ear adjacent to the Morden Sunrise rose. She knows well enough to not stretch too close to the haughty and prickly foliage. And if you were to lift up one of the rocks, your shrieks would accompany the panic retreat of a gazillion tiny terrorists.
I love to place the assertive and dramatic ornamental grass along side the soft murmuring mounds of Alyssum and the stately overlord of the deep purple Bugbane. Each plant is nice enough. But placed together in a setting of rocks and shrubs, they shine through contrasting personalities and physical characteristics. Each become fascinating individuals, playing a part in a setting of struggles to thrive, of being characters supportive to stand guard against wind and heat. Some fail and die. The heroes return after months of enduring the biting cold and dark winters.