What I saw in the old Lost Garden
Rather than stooping to a midnight raid on the awakening forsythia bush, Husband spoke to the new owner, who is only too glad for us to avail ourselves of any of the poor neglected plants in the old Lost Garden.
It crossed my mind that this might perhaps assuage his guilt at the neglect that runs rampant through the garden, but then I thought, - no, he is too honest a man for that. He truly has too much to do and the old Lost Garden is just not one of his priorities. As it would be mine, alas! If I was younger and full of energy I would hire myself out to him as a gardener for a penny a day, just to be able to care for the beautiful plants we left behind.
Husband has been a master pruner all his life, and he kept the shrubs in the Lost Garden according to all the rules of perfect pruning, so that the trees and the bushes were symetrical where they should be symetrical, - flowing, where they should be flowing, and all was in in order to reach the pinnacle of beauty.
Now, as I entered through the gate, the honeysuckle on one side and the trumpet vine on the other reached out to touch me, - overgrown, tangled and confused.
The Star Magnolia and the Tree Peony have not been pruned, - branches crossed each other in awkward directions. The Forsythia is a mass of unpruned suckers, - and further than that I did not venture. I know not how the KoreanVerbenia, the Hibiscus or the Roses fare.
The forsythia and I communed a bit, and with Husband's shining pruning shears I snipped off a goodly bunch of sticks, - full of buds and promise.
We brought them home and cut them into branches the right size for vases. They are sitting in the bathtub, soaking up the light from the big window, and will soon be golden butterfly blooms. Miss Callie has developed a fascination for this garden in the bathtub, and unless I keep the door closed she is shinnying up the sides of the tub and in amongst these new additions to the tub.
Meanwhile, in the new garden a few bulbs are poking through the ground, but it cries out for attention and I long for a day that is mild enough to go and tackle the old stalks from last year, - to remove them and make room for the tender young shoots that I JUST KNOW are waiting as impatiently as I am on the other side of the bed, for a springtime reunion!