I look at my garden often throughout the day. The way light moves, the placement of plants, wind and birds, water pooling in the large lime mayapple leaves. There are the slender, sculptural trunks of stewartia and crepe myrtle natchez, the sage limbs of weeping pear, the soft movement of maidenhair fern. Weaving through it all, the rounded happiness of pittosporum and the vibrant mariken gingkos. It's a fertile, often edited garden with alliums giving color to the gradations of green. Everyday I am in there touching, weeding, watering, professing my love. I now make gardens for others and the process is the same. I sit and listen, because each piece of land has its own voice.