Dear Diary... a stroll in the garden

November, 14, 2017

On my father’s birthday, I went to the garden for the first time.  Dried leaves crunched under my feet, as they made new pathways in a garden I barely recognized.  The grape vines had made a huge canopy above surrounding trees and they are full with sweet ripe grapes for birds to feed on, and lips to taste. 

The air was crisp, and as the sun prepared to set into a pink horizon, a waft of polished orange leaves came swirling down in the air from scrawny and weather-beaten trees.  Leafless and weak bushes looked also sad under the yellowish tint of the November light.  The earth was covered with brown, pine-like needles and the floors were covered up in orange and red leaves that were already decomposing… 

From the moment I entered the garden I felt this mysterious, melancholic tingling feeling of Deja vu. Something about those old, unloved roses was ringing in my ears and I could feel my heart searching the garden.  I didn’t pay heed to it thinking it will wither away any time and instead attempted to concentrate on the iridescent, desolate beauty all around me… because, yes, I could find beauty there too… and mystery and thus I decided to sit for just a moment beneath the large crabapple tree to meditate about all I saw, and felt… 

...until I spotted him…  One, two… Northern Flickers, large, and brown woodpeckers with a gentle expression and handsome black-scalloped plumage. When they flew away all you could see was the orange tint of large underwings that were too swift for the eye to be surprised by details.

 

The love I felt yesterday for this small garden grew in me again all of a sudden.  I could already envision the warm, rose filled garden, where the lilac tree blooms up its dark green branches, crowned with pompous, beautiful lilac flowers that perfume the air around; where the walls of the garden are adorned with blossoms of every hue; and where grapes festoon the dense foliage of vines, shedding on the vernal breeze the perfume of their sweet scent…

Yes, there’s a lot to be done here. I am already fearing the task ahead, but even now I know exactly what need to be done there… what tree to remove and what shrub to move.  The roses are in a terrible shape too.  I’m afraid that some of them will need to be removed, but I want to try reviving them before replacing them.  Overhead vines that are wrapped around broken branches and bird’s nests will have to be removed, and there’s also a low growing type of a vine running throughout the epicenter part of the garden that will need to be pull out from the ground by hand as well, just as I did with the wild vinca at the little white cottage that late summer a year ago; lest the roots sprout again and take possession of the garden all over again.   

I can hardly wait to meet the sun upon the garden’s lawn in spring time, but for now I will enjoy every moment of the quiet winter months, and I’m even anticipating a cozy snowy morning outlooking into the garden from wide, blindless windows…  cozy blankets, the soothing crackling sounds in the hearth...