In my youth I was a novice gardener who after planting a few flowers realized he could use some help and turned to a more experienced Master Gardener for advice and assistance. Out of a lack of confidence, I allowed him to plant in my garden knowing he was wiser and had better skills. I was trusting and didnít do my due diligence and by not doing this I remained blissfully ignorant. I didnít seek out different views or research various opposing ideas on how to make a garden. I looked to a single source to read about plants and their possibilities. I elected to read only one book, written by the gardener himself. He cautioned me not to look to others, for they wanted nothing more than to destroy my plot. He forewarned that these men were false and would saturate my garden with nothing but dandelions.
His flowers, they were magnificent and lovely, springing up almost instantaneously. They grew easily in my fertile soil. Over time his flora grew tall giving my fragile flowers shelter from the hot sun. They buffered my tiny breakable plants from the wind. I thanked and praised him for protecting the plants I had planted.
Over time the leaves of these giants that once gave my growth shade now cut out the sun entirely. Their stronger and more efficient roots began to curl and wind themselves through and around my small delicate saplings. These roots began to drain all the moisture and nutrients away from the very plants for which they had appeared to provide a safe haven.
His plants became leviathans obscuring my plantings from view. The beauty of my flowers was now overshadowed by the exquisite creations he had planted in my rich earth. My plants grew weaker in parallel to his growing stronger.
I was told, and in time believed, that my sprouts were not pretty. In fact they carried an odor that was fouling the air around the real flowers. I was chided for my lack of skills and was commanded to dig out my greenery to make room for his.
I could see that what I had planted was weak and wilted. They didnít have the fresh smells I once enjoyed. I submitted to his will and spent years weeding and digging out these insipid things I had stuck in the ground. I was embarrassed to show anyone the weeds I had grown. Compared to my mentor I was a complete failure. I began to see and believe that only his flowers had worth. One day I realized, it was no longer my garden but that of the Master Gardener.
Balanced (My goal)
There is symmetry