The necessary sadness of commitment

All gardens need structure, forethought (or at least thought at some point in the process), a plan of some kind, and patience.  That's what ALL the gardening magazines, books, and proper advice columns say.  Alas for those of us who are smitten by tropical gardens! in the morning and agaves! at noon.  And then moon gardens! in the evening.  Oh, and not to mention my intense longing for a poison garden - datura, brugmansia, foxgloves!  (Why do these flowers smell so delicious?  It's like: Hey baby, how you doing?  You looking mighty foxy, and I think I'm in loooove with you, and wham!  Dead!)  And it's only Monday . . . 

Of course, there are those minor little inconveniences of limited budgets, space, and, well, in my case, forethought and commitment to a theme.

But if I can't have every type of garden that I covet for my own little Arcadia, then I can go visit them around my part of the world.

Even if I have to sneak about to do it.  (Odd how most people are creeped out by utter strangers staring into their yards.  I am NOT casing the joint.  Well, I am kind of coveting some of your plants.  And your garden designs.  And maybe some of your garden accessories - why doesn't anyone give me a giant clam shell?) 

Happy transplanted bromeliads and anthuriums living under the shade of ti and hapu'u in the front garden.

 The view off of the front porch.  Lots of hot pink ti, although I'm not sure of the variety.  "From-Eric's-Housamus Olomanii" is probably the botanical name.

Red ginger with two kinds of red ti and lako in the background.

Cully and the pond in its earliest stage.