Category Archives: my garden

Getting along in the garden.

my garden, , , , ,

The garden always seems to have an intention of its own, apart from what I have planned for it. Last year I planted several new milkweed varieties on the south side, and none of them has emerged as yet. But under the fig tree the hearty Showy Milkweed volunteers have arrived as a whole regiment, even sprouting up through the lithodora.

So many of the welcome flowers are of the blue and purple hues, like Blue-eyed Grass and the first salvia bloom. I planted the sweet pea flowers in a row where chives were already growing; the chives are huge now, and I might have to cut them back to clear the way for the sweet peas to see the sun.

A single anonymous sweet pea volunteered in a big pot, back in the fall, and was trailing all over the path, so that I was stepping on it. So I stuck a mobile trellis next to the greenhouse and tied it up there.

This pink jasmine is finally thriving on a trellis against the fence. It looks pretty right now, but soon the salvia will send out its long branches and hide it. The garden is definitely overcrowded in spots….

One of the areas that felt overcrowded was in the front garden where a False Cypress grew. It was getting too big for my taste, and it’s kind of scruffy, so I took it out. Now more sunlight can come into my living room. I will replace it with something smaller and more interesting in the fall.

Borage has been surprising me by sprouting here and there, encouraged by all the rain; this is the most vigorous of the plants, and it’s in a place where I might remember to squirt it with the hose occasionally and keep it growing through the summer. (That ferny plant surrounding it is Love-in-a-Mist.) I don’t often use borage for anything, but the bees do! I hope it will grow away from the nearby fig tree, so that in late summer when I’m picking figs, I won’t be encroaching on the bees’ favorite feasting grounds. It will be interesting, day by day, to see how all the plants and insects and birds — and the gardener — coordinate their work for the maximum enjoyment of all.

Bee on milkweed 2019

This lady whom everyone loves.

my garden, poetry, ,

Yesterday afternoon the garden was brilliant under the sunbeams that followed rain showers. This strip of purple caught my eye, revealing itself to be violets that had quietly grown lush over the wet winter, along the edge of the patio where they also had planted themselves years ago. Sometimes they volunteer in pots and choke out whatever I had intended to nurture, but this little border didn’t encroach on anything, so I was pleased to see them suddenly dressed in their purple gowns, as one more sign announcing: SPRING!

I’m afraid my grandchildren went home before the violets bloomed, but I will invite a few young outdoorsy friends over soon, and invite them to gather happiness in their small hands.

CHILDREN, IT’S SPRING

And this is the lady
Whom everyone loves,
Ms. Violet
in her purple gown

Or, on special occasions,
A dress the color
Of sunlight. She sits
In the mossy weeds and waits

To be noticed.
She loves dampness.
She loves attention.
She loves especially

To be picked by careful fingers,
Young fingers, entranced
By what has happened
To the world.

We, the older ones,
Call it Spring,
And we have been through it
Many times.

But there is still nothing
Like the children bringing home
Such happiness
In their small hands.

-Mary Oliver

Why it is never finished.

beauty, my garden, quotes, ,
2016

“Obviously a garden is not the wilderness but an assembly of shapes, most of them living, that owes some share of its composition, its appearance, to human design and effort, human conventions and convenience, and the human pursuit of that elusive, indefinable harmony that we call beauty. It has a life of its own, an intricate, willful, secret life, as any gardener knows. It is only the humans in it who think of it as a garden. But a garden is a relationship, which is one of the countless reasons why it is never finished.”

-W.S. Merwin

2022

Decorating for Palm Sunday.

church, Holy Week, my garden, other gardens, , , , ,

This morning, right after Divine Liturgy for Lazarus Saturday, lots of people immediately got to work decorating for Palm Sunday, which for Orthodox Christians is tomorrow. Others of us stood around in the divine sunshine chatting before we went home to get ready for the next of our string of services, 16 between now and Pascha night. (No, no one can go to all of them.)

(In the photos above, the triangle of white in the lower right is some papers that I was holding in front of my phone without realizing it.)

One friend took my arm and steered me to her car where she had a basket of spicy buns she had specially designed and baked for the celebration. They were in the shape of a body with two cloves for eyes, and bands wrapped around his middle (I immediately thought back to the Gospel reading we had just heard, in Lazarus comes out of the tomb still bound up with graveclothes), and they were still warm from the oven. Yum. The sun shone on us, divinely. The welcome, welcome sun.

I didn’t get a picture of the little Lazarus buns, but I did get close to these trees that I had no memory of seeing before. The rose-like blooms hang down large and lovely, like clusters of bells. My Seek app says they are Japanese Cherry Trees. And no wonder the flowers look like roses, as the trees are, like so many fruit trees and bushes, in the Rose family.

Then, it was time for me to go, fortified by holy bread and Lazarus bread, to a tax appointment. Well, the woman who helps me is very nice, and likes to hear about my church. So even that part of the day was blessed.

When I was finally home and adding water to the fountain, I marveled at the sun-infused pomegranate bushes… and the Dutchman’s Pipe flowers… and the way so many plants have grown taller than usual with the very wet winter they’ve enjoyed, and their flower stalks are majestic, even the ones that haven’t opened their blooms yet.

My particular Dutchman’s Pipe is a California native. This evening when I sniffed at the flowers again, I still could not detect any scent; I’ve been waiting for them to live up to their reputation of being stinky. So I did a little research and some people say that the North American species do not have a scent. Hmm… I wonder how the butterflies and pollinating gnats will find them?

I don’t remember what this flower is, but about fifty plants self-seeded into this pot and now are brightening the patio enthusiastically. It appears to be a spring day all around.