In May, I wrote a little piece about my friend Joyce's house. A few days ago, she sent me photographs of her garden. And, of course, I had to share them. Joyce's home has always been more than a house, it's the focal point of her many talents and a gracefully composed poem about what she loves. But the interior is only part of her story. Joyce's garden is a genius of choreography-she takes often uncontrollable elements; weather, water, light, individually growing things, insects, birds, and guides their waltz. And her photographs, (all hers), capture the dance. I had to divide my post into two parts because I could hardly bear to edit what she sent me.
One other thing to know: Joyce's garden sits on a mountain side.
Next week, the details, the close-ups, the blossoms, the butterflies, the snails.