After a couple of weeks, I'd assembled little squares of blue but with still not much idea of what the bigger picture was supposed to be except a giant image that, in my inexperienced mind, was a mishmash of various shades of blue.
But every now and then, I'd come across two puzzle pieces that fit together without much effort and it was like, Aha! I'm making progress. Like, when I was helping a son, shopping with his mother, pair lavender and salvia together when the two didn't have much in common. 'Did you take design in school,' asked the mother when I successfully picked out a plant that drew the salvia and lavender together. Barely able to contain my proud smile on the inside, I replied, 'Nope. My mother just kept talking and talking, and I guess something worked its way into my head.'
Or when I was shopping yesterday and became suddenly unsure of myself as though handed a brand new puzzle, this time a field of another solid colour. 'It's one thing telling other people how to plant their gardens,' I told P, a coworker, 'and quite another when you do your own. I'm always careful to try and match things for them that'll look good now and in a few years time, and I want my own to look just as good.' He laughed, and said, 'Yeah, and what makes it even harder is that the possibilities are endless.'
Well, being under a time crunch, I had to pick, and pick fast. I settled on one Gaura Rosy Jane as the centrepiece flanked by three Iresenes, a Martha Washington geranium in the back right with a white bacopa diagonal in the front left, and filled in the spaces with a variety of pink and white impatiens. Here's what the finished product looks like:

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