Reflection

Reflection

I always loved tending the garden. There’s something enchanting about being out there, in the terrain of me and earth. Gorgeous hummingbirds and trees swaying just slightly in the breeze like they’re happy to be spotted, my own plants and flowers blooming in a pattern I designed like I’m a wizard with earth-bending powers. This early spring my mother helped me purchase some pictus, pothos, and ivys in hanging plant pots to decorate the eaves of our house. there’s a kind of magic with these foliages —how their form spills like they’re reaching for something just out of view. When I’m out there stringing up ropes and pots, I imagine myself in the clouds, building my own Hanging Gardens of Babylon. It might not be as grand or legendary, but it is mine. My floating garden where every plant grew grand. It’s a small thing, but it feels big—like I’m creating a space where the ordinary turns just a mythical. Because to me, I am the king of my garden, and my plants are my wonder of the world. Going outside always brings me back inside myself. And in those quiet moments, among my wonders, I feel closest to nature and furthest from everything else.