Unknown plants

Since I first planted my butterfly garden five years ago, I've tried to plan what it will look like, and carefully select the flowers I want to grow there. My garden, however, seems to have some ideas of its own. It's my fault, of course. If I'd just pull all the plants I didn't plant as they sprouted, the reality of the garden would come closer to matching the ideal in my head.

But nature plants some interesting things. This year, the entire front half of the garden has been taken over by what is surely a weed. (aka a plant growing where it is not wanted). Its spread has been prolific, but its flowers are beautiful. They open to the morning sun, drinking in its rays, but in the heat of the afternoon, the bloom close tightly, trying to escape from the relentless heat. I can relate.

In the center of the garden is a something with large vaguely-squash-looking leaves. I have no idea what it might be. Just this last week, it started to send up a flower shoot. Maybe, before the end of fall, it'll bloom.

All things in their own time.

Baby Joe was thriving in the NICU, so they sent him home well before his due date. His parents are, of course, thrilled to have him home.

Rita-Marie spends her days caring for him, and wondering how it can be that the entire day is gone and all she's managed to do besides feed the baby is to grab a nap and to start (not finish) a load of laundry. (Hers is a common experience, I assured her - I remember those days.)

Big Joe is still in full-out nesting mode. He's determined to get done the things he wanted to get done before the baby's due date, and by golly, he's going to get there. The minor fact the baby is on the outside of his mother's womb instead of inside where he still belongs hasn't changed his instincts a bit. 

They are learning how to live as a family of three. (seven?)

Cricket, their dog, is fascinated by the new hairless puppy, and makes sure to alert Mom and Dad if he cries even a little and they don't jump up to see what's going on. Fortunately for all, the baby is of the mellow variety, and doesn't often scream. (At least, not yet.) 

The cats sniffed politely, and have decided he's neither good to eat nor likely to feed or pet them, so they're ignoring him.

And so their household resembles my garden. Some parts were planted on purpose, some joined as strays, all are learning to live together. It's not as tidy when it grows that way, but it has a beauty that can't be found in neatly ordered rows.  

Good Is.