Nearly every morning my dog and I walk around my yard. I water my rowdy garden, pluck weeds and am reminded how little I know about gardening. I stare with anticipation at the tiger lily buds and wonder if and when the hell they'll bloom. Maybe they need more fertilizer, I think. My dog sniffs and does her morning business. She smells white-tail deer or maybe a squirrel. I wonder at the dahlia plants that are now so tall we look bloom-to-eye and I notice the Gerber daisies that have not been too happy of late. The ones planted near my car have become bug food. Should I help them out with that poisonous bug dust I rarely use? But the other four Gerbers I planted by the dahlia plants are having a rebirth all on their own. Under the shade of the dahlia bushes that have grown unexpectedly huge, these ground-hugging daisies seem to be having quite the life. They look up at me with the cartoon eyes of a wise and colorful owl peeking out from amongst the foliage. I knelt down to take a snap. Watching the lady in the polka-dot boots do poop patrol and adjust her iPhone for a close-up, these plants need nothing from me.
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