Wednesday, June 25, 2014
I learned long ago that one really has no control over a garden. You can plant, transplant, cut back, remove, and solicitously feed your favorites with the intention that they will grow giant and stand out, only to have them not show up the following spring. (Countless delphiniums, let's say!) That's okay though, nature nudges me to let go of control and that makes perfect sense when it comes to gardening. (Just look at what has happened in the farming industry as we demonstrate brutal human force over nature with toxic chemicals and genetically modified plants.)
Yet, we can steer things on the garden path a little, paint in some of our dreams. We can fill our garden with the things we love, and decide not to tolerate what doesn't feel like it should be there. (How many times have I put in a hosta only to remove it, deciding it was too heavyset for the space? And plenty of times I have plucked out all of the yellow flowers because it is my least favorite color.) Still, each year brown-eyed Susans stealthily poke their slender necks out amongst the pinks and blues, and I have learned to let them dance right along with their counterparts, how can I not?
Nature has already gifted me with some big garden surprises in this, the fourth day of summer.
This green frog has taken up home for several days under the bird nest spruce, she even created a little nest in the mulch....
And this planter is chock full of my favorites, all returning on their own, and in perfectly spaced sequence, mind you: pint catmint and delicate blue campanula, both perennials, and plenty of annual snap dragons, whose colors I eagerly await--nothing is yet in bloom, but they are just about ready! (I'll be sure to post another picture when it is in full bloom.)
For years I moved around these periwinkle pincushion flowers, gangly as they are, I couldn't give them up. Now I look at them and realize they have found a symbiotic relationship amongst the golden huechera and knock-out pink rose bush!
Last year I swore that this swath of lambsear was all coming out, and now the beebalm and mallow have mixed themselves in shielding it, creating a lovely vignette that I can only be excited about.
Ah summer, that blissful time when nature takes over and there is not a damn thing you can do about it except enjoy every minute.