How does my garden grow?

Right now, the grass is yellowing and brittle from too little rain. Just as I set out to put sprinklers on the lawn, the drizzle began--most welcome. The day lilies by the front walk are starting to swell, ready to burst. The pink-purple petunias cascade from their baskets, the front ones full of blooms where the afternoon sun catches them. The basket in the back by the swing, is in too much shade and while it has verdant leaves, there are few blossoms. Sun, it needs.
The Burgundy mums, are massed by the white picket fence. Two white mums on either side of the green front door are welcoming I think. I need to change the door wreath from it's cheery, summer Flowers to more fallish selections. Maybe tomorrow if there is time, i will rummage in the basement and replace it.
I peruse the fall garden catalogues...and read a magazine article on "top Fall Projects"--My remodeling project is coming to a conclusion and the new bay windows overlook a rocky ledge, lined with large stones, perfect for a bed of perennials--Daffodils would be an obvious choice because of the flocks of deer who come into my yard nearly daily to graze, steal crab apples from the lower boughs, or to dispense seeds from the bird feeder. Maybe irises --tall, and sculptural, elegant royal blue tissues that unfold like origami into petals.
Then I think of the things it would be fun to incorporate over the next years, if the Lord tarries--a labyrinth for meditation and contemplation? Perhaps a small scaled water feature, adding the sound of water to the cricket's song and to the peepers call. I love the natural sort of rooms that are already emerging. I'm not sure why a garden is so satisfying? Perhaps because there is a Jungian symbol --GARDEN--that is imprinted somehow in our heart/ some information encoded in our DNA and handed down through the centuries--the need to know--even taste the earth. To tend it and from our efforts to receive fruit--colorful, fragrant, or flavorful....Our return to the garden to eat and to fellowship--to be known, to know, to belong--to celebrate--that great feast for which we long--That garden is what keeps us going when the beetles eat the rose petals, or the sun scorches the ornamental grasses, or the wind whips the willow tree. Gardening is a leap of faith, I half think.