Cosmos gone wild

Early this spring, I planted a couple seed packets of cosmos.  I thought they'd grow a foot or two and make a nice frame for the Teepee.  Now I have an 8' tall forest of  cosmos and no teepee.  Sort of like the strawberries I planted as a border for my flower bed, and now I just have a strawberry bed.

I sat in my backyard and looked around at the mix of chaos and intention of structure, and felt the mix of content and frustration that seems to plague me.  I love my yard.  I love the Russian Olives and the horses, birds, and other wildlife in the field behind us.  I love the quiet.  I love watching the kids play in the water, the sand box, the trampoline, eating fruit off the trees, and raspberries off the bushes. I love the assortment of balls strewn across the soft grass that is six inches long because it hasn't been cut in three weeks.  And I love my children who are so different and so lovable in their own individual ways.  Alexa picked the cosmos and stuck them into my braid.  Hazel drug her baby into the sandbox and put a blanket over it, singing a little lullaby. Hyrum created a beach on Uncle Corey's patio. And Lily slept and ate in my arms.

But, looking at my children I realize that they are like the cosmos, and my yard, and my life in general.  I plant and try to create structure and yet there is chaos and growth in ways that I did not predict nor do I know how to contain.  And then again I'm not sure I want to contain them.  I do want them to make good choices, but I'm rather fond of my strawberry patch and cosmos forest. As for the grass...someday we'll get better about mowing it...maybe.