The boy's garden this year is a happy tangle of vegetables and flowers pulled at random from my seed box and scattered across one end of Limerick’s large garden plot. In that rambunctious quarter of the garden, sunflowers are tended by long-legged arachnids, and pumpkins are blooming aside morning glories which look as if they were lit from within.
Nature makes her own bouquets. Along side the vegetable garden in a strip of earth missed by both the lawn mower and the rotitiller, queen anne's lace blooms amid wild mustard, chicory and thistle. Even the tomatoes form a bouquet of color as some ripen earlier than others.
Bouquets are forming in the perennial garden also, of autumn mums and the still-blooming marigolds planted in early summer. Butterfly bush, bronze fennel and purple cone flowers form a chaos of butterfly-friendly color.
As I walk, clouds roll softly above me and the hills roll slowly beneath my feet. All the while, in movements too subtle for my impatient human eyes, the cosmos buds roll slowly, softly outward toward that wider, greater cosmos.