"Il me faut surtout avoir des fleurs, toujours, toujours."
There are times when I feel certain that in a previous life, somehow I was connected with Claude Monet. Perhaps I was a housemaid at Giverny, I don't know ... I've never entertained any illusions that I was the great man himself. But given my unfailing tendency to find myself quietly weeping in the presence of his paintings, I have to wonder. Perhaps that's why I majored in French, too.
Like Claude, I too must have flowers "always, always". And like Claude, I want them in glorious abundance, I want riotous color, I want barely controlled floral chaos. So as I ventured about the gardens today, assessing the conditions of various plants and taking photographs to chronicle the damage, I began to despair of ever having a beautiful garden again. I've NEVER seen my garden in this kind of sad and pitiable condition in the almost 13 years I've cultivated this corner of Katy. And it made me wonder ... what would Claude do?