Garden thoughts in May, 2015
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| Mother's statue is dwarfed by chives and buttercups. |
Once again my garden has taken control of itself, and I have
only myself to blame. But, I do not feel in the least bit guilty about having
let things go, really they went without my having the chance even to let them
go. The ground covers that crept out of some ancient garden that was here
before Jon and I took possession of this house and yard, have once again
claimed dominance over any space not covered by chives. There is one coral bell
that keeps true, and I am loath to move her, but this next cleaning will
necessitate a good soaking to get the dandelions and other invasive species
untangled from her roots. That is life’s way – to tangle thoughts and opinions.
People get so close, sometimes, the roots get confused.
I think of Mary Oliver’s nature
image: “ How necessary it is to have opinions! I think the spotted trout lilies
are satisfied, standing a few inches above the earth. I think serenity is not
something you just find in the world, like a plum tree, holding up its white
petals.”
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| Coral bells from mother's garden. |
No, there is no guilt. I have tried to impose my will on the
garden for so many years, that I must admit to a shaky truce for which the
comfrey and mint and all the other perennials have the principal negotiating
positions. There have been those years where I have sat and meditated over my
weeds, blessing them for the comfort they have given me. I have sought the buttercups
and forget-me-nots for the little bright-me-ups I have taken to hospice. And, I acquiesce any time that I have to work
my garden is time I have borrowed from another chore, another excursion,
another visit. If my garden tries to take care of itself when I am elsewhere, I
can only be grateful.
When I finish grading the exams, I hope for 10 days of good
weather before my summer commitments encroach upon garden time. I will try to
tidy the space, so I can save the coral bells and ensure happy basil, spearmint,
and forget-me-nots. I really don’t have to worry about the chives.
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| Forget-me-nots and grass and . . . |
Once upon a time, when I was a nascent gardener who truly
thought she could control her plot of earth, a friend told me to meditate by
the side of my garden, asking my weeds to move to a specific space I had given them. She
assured me this was a realistic approach to living successfully with my garden
and the rest of nature, but then she moved to Phoenix. None of my other friends
thought highly of her advice, but it is in the back of my mind as I
approach a task of forking up the wild beauty that shadows my mother’s Mary
statue. If I asked nicely, would they comply?
Oliver, Mary. “Yes! No!” White
Pine: Poems and Prose Poems. New York: Harcourt, Inc. 1994. 8. Print.
