For me, this garden is like a baby.
In the beginning, you calculate it's age by weeks, then months, until about 2 years old, then it's years. And by the time they're old enough where they tower over you, eat more than cafeteria of grade schoolers, and leaving dirty socks everywhere, you have no idea how old they are, you're just waiting for them to move out of the house.
(Don't be fooled folks, I say all this, yet I'm 31 with no kids...)
It's been a month since I planted my Fence Garden so I'm still in La-La land: checking up on it constantly, whispering sweet nothings into their ears (resembling a chant "grow grow, flower flower").I picked up, recently, Tracy DiSabato-Aust's book The Well-Tended Perennial Garden and she has pictures of gardens just planted and then 4 months later they looked better than an Arboretum. I expect nothing less from this garden (oh, no, is this an insight into my mothering skills?).
So here's the baby at 1 month old. Isn't she the cutest baby you ever saw?