Garden whimsy

As someone who never takes much in life terribly seriously, I love a bit of whimsy in the garden.  The Harry Potter garden, the Star Wars irises in the bird bath garden. . . my list goes on.  I also love a good joke (even though I’m typically the only one who gets it).  For instance, we had three torches on the patio—you know, the kind that has a little bottle of fuel in it and a big wick on the top?  Well, these torches didn’t seem to work that well in our yard, because it’s usually windy enough that they would just get blown out sooner or later.  So I “re-purposed” them. . . filled them with dirt and planted flowers in them.  I always plant celosia—the kind that sort of looks like flame—because to me that’s pretty amusing.  (I know, I know—I am easily amused.)

Torches with Celosia

I do like garden ornaments, whether whimsical or not, although I try not to go too overboard so that things don’t start looking kind of junky.  And I never use plastic.  Metal or concrete are my favorite options.  I bought this copper faucet a few years ago—it’s got a little crystal hanging from the end of the faucet like a drop of water.  It used to actually
have a glass rain gauge on the top—I think that part broke during the first summer I had it.  But I love it, so I keep it in the garden anyway.

Faucet

Years ago I got an old coffeepot from my grandmother’s things—Trevor drilled a few holes in the bottom, and presto!  I had the perfect planter to sit on top of the stove (in the stove garden, of course).  I try to plant flowers that sort of look like they’re “bubbling” over
the top. 

Stove with coffeepot

For my Fortieth birthday (I won’t say how many years ago THAT was) I got a decorative garden rock that says “At least you’re not as old as this rock.”  That also sits in the stove garden, and I get a kick out of it every time I see it.  (Then again, as I mentioned, I am easily amused.)

You can see Bob perched in the background here in his garden behind the garage.

Bob (in background)

And in this photo is Percival the Peacock—a birthday gift from my husband (who knows just what I like—probably because I called him from Target the minute I laid eyes on Percy and told him that’s what I wanted for my birthday).  My gardens may be starting to look like a menagerie, but I enjoy all of the little guys I’ve got hanging around here and there.  I think they help me from taking myself or my gardening too seriously.  

Percival