A Moment of Quiet Reflection

I was tired last night, so I did not water my garden; as I rushed to the backyard this morning, I was worrying and wondering if that had been a wise decision.  I guess I was really tired, because it had obviously rained at some point, drops still hanging from leaves and fruit, yet I had heard nothing.  My chore was done, and since the plants were still wet, I should not touch them – to avoid damage – so no yard work for me, yay! Instead of going back inside, I decided to take the precious opportunity to just look at my plants, and assess progress. I grabbed my camera in search of prize-worthy shots, showcasing the result of my hard work so far. As I made my way around, I saw the blooming peppers, the fruiting berries and the shallots, ready for harvest (as soon as they dry out); then, I paused and observed some of the other plants in more detail.  In the end, the still-green tomatoes (above), and the half-chewed roses (below), the antithesis of ripeness or perfection, turned out to be two of my best specimens, representing the promise of a rewarding harvest and the survival of beauty; the result of pure labour and care, without machinery or pesticides.