Gardens: A Study In Macro
In the beginning, there was a garden. It was Someone Else’s garden, that Someone Else designed, and Someone Else planted, and Someone Else cared for. I continue to find evidence of this: a small gargoyle hidden under the Coral Bells, a stepping stone with imprinted leaves, an iron sign that says “I Love My Garden” buried under several layers of decomposing leaves. This garden was loved. This garden was cherished.
But Someone Else moved on, and suddenly, dramatically, the garden became My garden. My design, My plantings, My care. This is slow going. A garden cannot be reclaimed overnight. There are new discoveries every day, invisible surprises developing under the soil during each season, waiting to emerge triumphant in front of my very eyes.
Calla lilies. Self-seeded Snapdragon. And Hostas, oh the Hostas.
Some things I have neglected shamelessly, out of disregard or out of ignorance. Others I have tended and coddled every waking moment. The roses took their time in telling me what they needed, or at least I took my time in recognizing it. Some things have not survived the transition.
But there are also new things, and newly cared for things. Divided irises and daylilies after years of inattention. Pruned trees and shrubs with more dead wood than living, hoping for a chance now to really thrive. Butterfly Bushes where there was just grass. Guara; Stella d’Oro and Little Grapette; Portulaca; Elephant Ear; Delphinium; Creeping Thyme.
Now, one Spring, one Summer, and the beginning of one Fall later, this garden is truly my garden. I know every inch. There are few plants that I haven’t managed to identify, and hardly any that I haven’t come to love. I have Plans. I have Dreams. And as soon as I have more money and good weather again, I will continue to conquer!
P.S. A Study In Macro: