Growing up, I was known for killing houseplants. However, we were blessed with a housekeeper, Anna, who knew – and loved her Plants and prettied up the house-hugging beds with petunias and pansies.
They couldn’t have made less of an impression on me. Later, married with my own house, Our front and backyards were wastelands of dried up grass. An eyesore for sure and a regular aggravation for my lawn-mowing husband.
I neither cared for nor appreciated gardens – neighbourhood or otherwise.
I’d walk with a neighbour who knew all the garden plants by English and often Latin names.
I humored her.
But then in the fullness of time years passed and our eldest became a teenager and the gym was insufficient to handle what she threw at me. I eyed the back yard, now devoid of the swing set and jungle gym for the grade school years.
I decided to dig up the backyard and replace the 30 or so feet with paths and ponds and bushes and who knows what I could create. But first the removing of the grass. This is a thankless job but as I dug into the earth, each piece up and into the earth, I wielded my shovel like a weapon with every dig I uttered another curse at the kid. At a certain point I got. Overwhelmed and got me a a roto-tiller to help. I left it running for a mere moment without supervision and oh my what I hole I dug for myself.
Then there was the problem of what to do with the grass I’d unearthed. Anna to the rescue: cover with plastic garbage bags and let the sun do its work, you’ll have good soil by the end of the summer..
When the grass was gone, before me lay 30 feet of fresh soil. Again Anna to the rescue she arrived with armloads of flowers and she knew just how to plant them – so I’d have blooms every season. At first it looked spare, but as the years passed and I did my own planting, the result was a magical English Garden, filled with textures and colors. I forewent the bushes and the pond and even the winding path. Instead, laid one 12×12 concrete slab after another to create a straight path from which I could access, for watering purposes, both sides. It was a delight. I cherished every bloom, anticipating the first tulips and dew drops then the lungwort (what a terrible name for such a clever plant – sprouting pink and purple blooms). Next, the Shasta daisies and the Columbines (such an unfortunate name, considering the tragic shooting at Columbine High School) day Lillies galore and then pretty names like Ladies Mantle, Batchelor’s buttons, fuzzy Astilbes and Bleeding Hearts. Over the years people ooo’d and aaa’d over the Glory that was our backyard
More years went by. And then the next door neighbor’s house was in flames and almost took ours with it. (See how a 4 alarm fire)
We moved lock stock and barrel. Leaving behind our glorious garden (one of the selling features) and moved into a lovely house with an enclosed backyard with neither a speck of grass nor a patch of soil upon which to plant. I bemoaned this fact to our former garden-lover neighbour who made a pronouncement: Pots. She said. Annuals in pots. It’s a whole new concept. But emboldened by our emboldened decision to sell everything and start r over in a rental, I took the pots that I found in the garage (we now had a double garage attached to the house: Luxury!) And began. First, I merely bought potted plants and placed them round the interior perimeter of the backyard. Then, the house next door was being torn down, I spotted a glass picnic table in their backyard. Quick as a bunny, it came over to our side and became a showcase for my (now) expanding potted plants.
I found that starting off with a couple of show stoppers while waiting for my seeds – started in the garage two months ago. I try to keep track using seed packages themselves, each in in its own ziplock bag, attached to the plant, but a couple have confounded me and I must check with Plant ID. However accurate, it’s always interesting. Every Spring it’s something different, with a couple seeding themselves.
I look out the massive glass sliding doors to the backyard where my table-full of brightly colored plants awaits my deadheading and after sun goes down, watering.
I delight it this wee cheery garden where multi-coloured pansies mix with Zinnias and Dahlias, Straw Flowers and Portulaca. Poppies and geraniums. Every night I wear my babies and every morning I greet them with love and encouragement.
My garden greets me with good cheer and forgiveness – even when I occasionally forget the nightly watering.
