It’s difficult for me to describe the subtle differences in flower colors. So, one morning, as we sat on our front porch, my oldest daughter asked if she would call that rose (pictured above, ‘Darcey bussell’) a crimson or a red with a hint of purple. She said “It is pink.”

Is it pink? Unable to believe my ears, my youngest daughter asked me the same question. She said, almost apologetic, that it was pink for her too.

You probably don’t understand how the rose color plays off of the other colors on the bed.

I began to despair. “Mom, I don’t really see any rhyme or reason in the plants that you have around your porch.” It’s hard to believe that I spent hours looking at the borders from all angles, holding a plant and carefully deciding where it would look best. But, to her, and how many others?, they just looked like a mess. Then I remembered when my middle daughter told me that she appreciated the color and texture interplay I created in the border. The compliment had me floating on it for the rest the day. It was a comfort to know that someone could understand what I am trying to do.

But I would like everyone to be able to see my garden as I see it.

It was upsetting to me that other people did not see my garden in the same way as I do. I wanted to change it. Do two people ever see the same colors? How could we possibly know? There must be a spectrum of color perception, from color blindness up to perfect pitch. Who decides what “correct” color perception is? How did my oldest daughter come to a different perception of color from me? She learned the names of colors. I showed her how pink looked. We both used the same crayon box. Pink means different things to her and to me. How did the happen?

It took me a while to realize that there was no way out of this. Some people find my garden beautiful, while others don’t. It’s okay. The best gardens are not just about color. They also include form, texture and space. They can create moods, lead the eye or draw attention to certain areas. There must be some agreement about color. Otherwise, how could certain gardens become famous for their use?

Please, will the real Darcy Bussell please stand up!

The same flower can change color depending on whether it is day or night, or if there are more or fewer clouds. The same rose as the one above was photographed in different seasons and at various times during the day. This rose appears pink in some pictures. However, the top photo is the true color.

Colorful gardens are well known for their use.

The Garden Writers Association held its annual symposium in Buffalo, NY, later that summer. The garden of Joe Hopkins was notable for its brilliant use of color. Joe Hopkins’ garden was awash in color. He used complementary colors with high contrast over analogous colors. (Complementary and analogous colors appear directly opposite each other in the color wheel.

The hot pink alliums above the chartreuse foliage on the right are a perfect complement. Purple sage flowers compliment the orange-red coleus in the bottom photo.

The dark purple leaves act as a resting place for the eyes. The orange-red coleus is a complement to the begonias in the middle, which are also similar-hued. On the left the birdhouse echoes this color. These echoes add structure to this riot of colors.

This photo shows the same seating arrangement from a different perspective. You can see that some of the plants echo the colors on the umbrella and garage door.

This garden’s color was intense, almost palpable. The dark purple foliage and color echo kept it from being too overwhelming. Also, the structure of the garden made it so you could not see everything at once. I enjoyed visiting the garden, but would not want to live there. The most fascinating thing about this garden only became apparent at the very end.

I’m sure I didn’t perceive colors as the owner did in this garden!

If a man who is colorblind can create a garden that has been featured in local publications, and on the Martha Stewart Living Radio Blog, then I suppose I shouldn’t be worried about the fact that my color sense doesn’t exactly match the way the rest of my relatives see color. Or the rest.