Tuesday, March 17, 2009

Memorium for a Lost Garden

Wonderful morning in the garden - mild air, blue sky, the sweet sound of birds, aching back, and all that goes with clearing away the winter debris and making room for the lovely green shoots pushing their way towards the light.

As Charles pruned the roses, and reported hopefully on their condition, I hacked away at tall dried stalks, and as I worked my mind wandered to the garden we left behind us when we moved almost four years ago. The Lost Garden.

It truly is a lost garden - nobody to care for it, and yet there is a wonderfully courageous air about it, as the shrubs bloom and the plants push brave new greenery above ground.



We drive by each Sunday on our way to get the paper. The Star Magnolia is now just starting to bloom....



And though the forsythia has not been pruned since last Charles clipped its glorious branches, it will be beautiful and golden for almost a month.




There are three beloved shrubs in the farmer's way. I understand he plans to shovel them out SOON and I am hoping that rather than destroy them he will be sweet and generous and allow us to bring them to the new garden. There is a fragrant viburnum, which I have for the last three springs tried to replace, and a lace cap climbing hydrangea which is heavenly with blue iris and red poppies. And a rather tattered looking hibiscus that needs to be shaped and loved.





The sweet peas we have perpetuated were planted by Charles' mother on the orchard that his grandfather planted when he returned from the Alaska Gold Rush, and they still grow on the original orchard. We have carried seed carefully from place to place, and they grew vigorously last year in the new garden, here on the pasture.



Our new garden has been a delight to create, but in my memory are all the wonderful hours I spent, early in the morning and in the cool of the evening, reveling in the care of the flowers, - the roses and iris and phlox and daisies. I remember with such great affection all the trees that Charles planted, - dozens and dozens on the three acres that made up the property. Almost all gone now, - yanked out to accommodate a market garden or fruit trees. Alas, alas....

We were so fortunate to have had this Lost garden while we were still vigorous and in the golden years.

We are so fortunate now to have a spectacular view, a quiet pasture, and a precious microgarden to accommodate (in jungle fashion) a wonderful medley of our favourites.

2 comments:

The Weaver of Grass said...

Isn't it funny - I always find it harder to leave behind a garden than I do a house. The plants are like little people we have loved and nurtured and suddenly they are on their own - even if another gardener takes over their ideas might not be the same. It must be torture living near your old garden and having to watch it struggle - hope the farmer is kind and lets you remove the ones you want.

Hildred and Charles said...

The thought occurred to me that if I were just a little younger I could offer to be his gardener!!! The best of both worlds....