There's the way a garden looks, say, in a picture and then there's the way it feels. We use more senses than we think we do at a given time. The goofy birds that will never let you photograph them playing. The swaying breeze. The way the cool air pools around your feet in certain areas or how the stepping stones stay warm after dark. The herbaceous, clean smell. The background hum of bees. Damp dirt. None of it photographs well. But it all weaves together into a certain ethos.

Every garden I've ever planted has been at least 50% chaos, but it gets there gradually. From sleeping seed pod to high summer, my garden and I take steps toward unrestrained chaos one or two at a time until it is a full gallop. I'd be lying if I said anything other than I love it. It makes me feel like I'm part magician, part mad scientist. Manicured, well behaved gardens are for someone else.