Somehow I can't grasp the garden concept, I grew up living in an apartment building and I think I'm beyond help, so in comes the gardener! No, I don't really employ a gardener, hold your horses, but here's how it came to be: we live across a small burial yard. And that is not scary/creepy at all, it's nice and friendly, pheasants and rabbits come to play, people go there all the time, sit on the bench contemplating, I kind of like the thought that the loved ones buried there still take part in their daily routine and is so much part of our village.
Anyway, the man that keeps the grounds neat and tidy is an avid gardener, by profession as well as in his heart. My garden wilts whenever I look at it, but whenever he wanders around in that slow gait real gardeners seem to perfect, every plant stands to attention. That's the man I need in my