My garden is a little rag-tag. Call it wabi sabi, “the acceptance of transience and imperfection” (Wabi sabi, Wikipedia). But it’s my Western take on wabi sabi, which includes abundance and going to seed.
I don’t have a tidy garden–I let plants grow that others might call weeds, for the birds eat their seeds and the butterflies love their flowers. I let the mulch lie along the borders of the paths. If plants grow where they decide to grow, chances are I’ll leave them there.
Once I read that the more wild a garden is, the more wildlife will love it. It’s true here–the solitary bees drill holes in the old agave stalks and dead tree branches; the Lucy’s warbler scopes out the old hanging gourds and dried prickly pear stumps for nesting sights, and the towhees toss the mulch as they forage.
It’s a thriving place, with a wild aesthetic, and it’s where I feel home.