It happens every year.
The late summer jumble in the garden.
Despite all my attempts at maintaining order,
decorum, a respect for borders,
the flowers always win.
Maybe it's because I'm tired of weeding,
or because August is so hot.
Whatever the reason,
the Russian Sage becomes a monster of a plant.
The Black-eyed Susan's easily triple their planting space.
The roses bloom again, looking more like trees than bushes.
The phlox towers over all, blooming in all the wrong places,
the hydrangeas flop all over the lawn.
And of course, the feverfew thinks it's the king of the garden.
I couldn't have planned anything more lovely.
Every year, I forget how much I love every minute
of the late summer jumble in my garden.