In the garden

April 29—cold and windy.  “¿Hasta cuándo esperaremos por la recompesa del dulce sol?”.  And how long will we wait for the sweet reward of the sun?  Are we ever going to see “nuestro pequeño mundo envuelto en calor?”—our land wrapped in warmth?  

As it was, I couldn’t wait any longer to plant my David Austin roses—the ones we had brought home on Friday.  So, I went out and planted them… my Boscobel and Abraham Darby.  The garden has evolved into a real dream these days.  I stand in it with my arms raised to the sky and I get this feeling of being content as if something, or someone bigger than me is drawing and making things out of nothing. Everything is made out of magic, and my heart sees what is invisible to the eye.     

April 30—I have scattered the zinnia seeds today; mainly in the rose garden in the rotunda, and around mom’s little garden—zinnias for summer flowers when the ephemeral glories of spring are long gone...

It was another day of high winds and chilly weather, but I am blessed and thankful for being able to work the soil, and still enjoy life outside.

 

May 3—today, I planted two Double Knockout roses—red petalled roses for a rubicund glint and a trickle of flushed glory among all greens and pinks.  I decided to plant one of these roses under the Quaking Aspen, on the west side of the garden, and the other is now replacing the bare-root Sundowner Grandiflora that I had planted last spring by the big fountain in the center of the garden.  

Nothing looks more pitiful than a newly planted bare-root rose standing like a skeleton in the garden, its thin, naked stems clacking together in the wind. But then winter passed and spring had its way with the world again.  Days grew longer and temperatures rose, summer came and went… yet, this rose never switched back into beauty mode.  I wouldn’t have it any other way, which simply means I took it out and put in its place that other red Double Knockout.  For plenty of blooms and incredible successions... 

 

I didn’t want to put that Sundowner Grandiflora in the trash yet, thought, and so I decided to give it another try and went onto replanting it in mom’s little garden.  We’ll see what little miracle would come out from this decision… only time will tell.

 

I have learned that when a plant or a shrub isn’t doing good in the garden, one must remove it as soon as you can; particularly when this relates to roses.  Life is too short, and the garden life so ephemeral that I refuse to continue on nursing the bad and the ugly.  I love this poem:

“A poor old Widow in her weeds
Sowed her garden with wild-flower seeds;
Not too shallow, and not too deep,
And down came April -- drip -- drip -- drip.
Up shone May, like gold, and soon
Green as an arbour grew leafy June.
And now all summer she sits and sews
Where willow herb, comfrey, bugloss blows,
Teasle and pansy, meadowsweet,
Campion, toadflax, and rough hawksbit;
Brown bee orchis, and Peals of Bells;
Clover, burnet, and thyme she smells;
Like Oberon's meadows her garden is
Drowsy from dawn to dusk with bees.
Weeps she never, but sometimes sighs,
And peeps at her garden with bright brown eyes;
And all she has is all she needs --
A poor Old Widow in her weeds.” 
― Walter de la Mare, Peacock Pie