The back garden, like the front garden and potager, has undergone numerous changes...some intentional...most, thanks to Mother Nature, not. But one garden element,
has been ever present... a constant companion.
Our wooden bench nestles under the canopy of an old and gnarly redbud, another devoted inhabitant in the 24 years we have lived here. The old tree, beaten up, weather-battered, yes...but still charming and protective of its progeny...three now... grown and sculpted and protective of their own under plantings.
The garden has matured, evolved, pouted and laughed... as has its caretakers.
The bench, patient and reliable, has born witness to it all.
Both beautiful and functional,
in form and in spirit...
its charm undiminished by heat or cold,
drought or torrent.
Always at the ready
my mother would say
in every season
to rest our weary bones.