A Garden In Full Voice XX

Every flower and plum here feels like a syllable in a larger poem, one that has no beginning and no end. Nature writes without ink, using scent, form, and color. The garden’s full voice is therefore literary, an epic written in fragrance and light. The viewer is both reader and participant, turning pages made of petals.

The final note of summer’s chorus resounds here: a garden at its most lush, ripe, and vibrant. It is the fullness before decline, the brilliance before fading, a reminder of life’s cycles. As Rumi once said, “Try to accept the changing seasons of your heart, even if you have never heard of spring.” This garden teaches us how to listen to both color and silence.