how does your garden grow?

Mary Mary quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells and cockle shells
And pretty maids all in a row.

that was interesting.

went and searched for that particular nursery rhyme and found such an interesting write-up on its history. things get real bloody in the garden, eh?

i'm not surprised. loads of plants which are real dangerous with their spears and other prickles and complications.

it seems as if the plants aren't the only dangers in the garden, as this article explains.

i mean, yes, ofcourse, the garden is such a source for little treasures and finds hidden underneath leaves...

or right by your knee


entwined on the branches above you


or on the vines themselves


or maybe on the petals like visiting fairies peeking in for a cup of tea

.

ofcourse they're beautiful and just waiting to be found.

sometimes they need some coaxing...


while at other times they simply unfold their gowns and let you admire their beauty


and sometimes the treasure-seeker has a camera with her and takes that moment along to share.

the flowers are not selfish at all. maybe even a bit disloyal in their wish to show their beauty off. they unfurl for almost any stranger on the street.


and sometimes they bring their friends along as entourage.


not just of the floral variety either


they're not self conscious and they don't put a lot of weight on labels. a weed? heck, that's just a plant where you don't want it thriving. but they want to thrive there... so they do. and they still show us their beauty in the midst of our loathing

.

and if you're patient enough. and look hard enough. sometimes even the Sun shows you his beauty as he aids the little jewels we often overlook.


(btw. that last one, i called it "Ring Around" in reference to another nursery rhyme. and boy, does that one have a story all of its own, too.)

people you meet on the streets

i often catch myself staring at people on the streets. wondering what kind of lives they live.




grabbing my camera and stealing their souls. perhaps for later inspection to find the answer to my endless questions.



do they take weekends off? do they sleep well at night? do they have someone to go home to?

and on the streets i ride through, i find people working on the rice fields lining its edges...


where and how do they spend their weekends?


what do they drink in the morning?



can they have seconds?




what's their retirement plan?




ever since all these self-help books found their niche in the market, we've started asking ourselves "what is the meaning of life?" "where do we fit in?" "how do we fit in?" "do we have to fit in?" "am i doing it right?"

when some people just push their wares, use their hands, bend their backs and do what must be done.