New day. New garden. Aah! I feel like the proverbial kid in the candy store. Time after time I have eked out a garden armed only with grim determination and a much younger back than I now possess. Often in soil that didn’t really want to bend to my will. And often on slopes that defied wheelbarrows and required what I called “bucketing”. Or meant being a slave to the Irrigation God.
It’s heaven then to look out every window and feel as if I’m in my own little private park. The “bones” are definitely there and the possibilities are making my head swim. I need a tree book! I need a Minnesota horticultural guide! I need a plan. And yet, how wondrous to know that if I do absolutely nothing, the garden is perfect just as it is.
The most exciting find which really made my heart sing was to discover that the tall hedges which border two sides of the property were actually Lilacs. HUNDREDS OF LILACS. And at Castenada Lane I nursed along one President Lincoln which only bloomed (begrudgingly) after 5 years of codling and lost the second to a gopher.
Another great surprise, popping up here and there – the Columbine.
I couldn’t grow Hostas to save my soul in California. They’re “weeds” in Minnesota – all varieties.
I’m thinking that the scrubs to the left, alongside the house are bush Dogwood, but who can identify the intertwined “reds” to the right?
I’m suspecting that if I do nothing but sit back and enjoy, this garden will be perfect just as it is. And yet –
For one thing, there must be vegetables. Especially tomatoes. And if I’m amused now to look out the window and see the cute brown bunny hopping about and eating the dandelions, there may be a declaration of war down the line. In the meantime, it feels like I inherited Paradise.