All of us know what is spoken, or made from the heart, and what is theatre. How you landscape your home, how you decide what pots, and what placement, and what flowers, or maybe no flowers-I cannot explain this any better but than to say that what I might see at your home, should convince me it is you, speaking.
How a landscape convinces the viewer, how a landscape is a complete world, with its own rules and its own language, is a considerable part of its beauty. The genuine voice behind the landscape brings life to that landscape. The life that nature empowers is formidable. The life, and voice, of a person is equally formidable. How interesting-that relationship.
Rob has photographed many landscapes in Europe, in his 14 years of travel. Some are on the verge of ruination. Some are marked by broken pots; some pots are not even planted-they are sculptures.
Though riddled with blooming weeds, or dead patches of this or that, or blurred with centuries of moss, they are powerfully evocative, and beautiful. The history of those genuine voices evokes memories in those of us who visit those gardens-our own memories.
I am sure you can tell I am passionate on the subject of the importance of the voice of the individual-which is unlike every voice which came before you, or any voice which is yet to come. It’s all I have to offer my clients-my voice.
An authentic voice-you have one, ready and waiting. Yours is better, you might say. Maybe I only have more practice.
On the subject of annuals, you need to decide first where you might want them. Let’s start with your front door. 
How you announce the entrance to your home is not only about the architecture. It’s your home, so your voice should be evident-clearly, confidently.
If you are exuberant, and welcoming of friends, neighbors, new people, and your daughter’s softball team, say so. 
If the mid-century modern, or contemporary design of your house makes certain demands that you hear, listen.
For better or for worse, I have planted my asparagus between my roses. I love how their ferny foliage masks how awkward and poor a rosebush looks, as a plant. Though I know perfectly well how to plant asparagus roots in a trench, other people tell that story much better than I, in particular, Margaret Roach.
But I have to say the asparagus word today, as its pushing aside the mulch and coming up like crazy-not on my schedule, but on the asparagus schedule. Home grown asparagus, raw, with the end of the day glass of wine, or barely cooked; even this peanut butter and butter girl appreciates the miracle of home grown asparagus.
