In the Garden of My Dreams

Garden area, central Texas 2006

I was born in Texas, a sixth-generation Texan. As an adult, I have lived in Louisiana, Minnesota, and Georgia (twice). Now I am back in Louisiana. In all of those places, the activity that tied me to place more than professional work (which was teaching at colleges and universities) was gardening. In the year since I've moved back to Louisiana, Tom and I have added five 8ft.X8ft beds in our backyard for flowers and herbs, a long, wide bed running the length of the back of our house for flowers and herbs, a 20ft.X20ft. garden for vegetables (with a 20X20ft. area under tarp now to kill the grass for expanding the garden), and smaller beds around the yard. We have begun clearing a brushy lot next to our house for a woodland garden and bird habitat, where we are primarily removing invasive species and will be planting native bushes. Tom has started clearing the brush that runs the length of the old wire fence around our property, again, removing invasive species and allowing sunshine and space for flowering shrubs we want to maintain.

native flowers blooming at our house in central Texas (2007)

Every garden is my dream garden, but that dream changes, depending on location and my own interests. First, every place I've lived has brought with it shadowy suggestions of the gardening dreams of previous owners, and I watch over a growing season to identify what of those  dreams I can incorporate into the Garden of My Dreams: the rudbeckia and lilies a woman planted at our first home in Georgia, the roses in Texas, the peonies in Minnesota, the azaleas, gardenias, amaryllis, and hydrangeas here in Louisiana. Yet I do not hesitate to pull out what I think does not belong in the Garden of my Dreams. Here I have pulled by the armloads miniature gladiolas that were overpowering other plants, their orange blooms also too strident for the quieter colors of the pink hydrangeas, though I left a few patches. I also am moving plants to place them in more appropriate areas where they can receive the attention they deserve or where they will act as foils to other plants. The dwarf daylilies growing in a shady area at the front of the house are destined to be placed in a sunny spot in a partially-shaded bed at the entrance to our driveway; their yellow-green blooms will bring out the color of the variegated hostas a previous owner planted there. But first, I have to amend that bed with compost, re-position the hostas, and add some darker-leaved hostas and oak-leaf hydrangeas to serve as a backdrop.

Rudbeckia blooming in my garden in Decatur, GA (2009)

thymes growing in my herb garden in Georgia (2009)

We've lived in places with vastly different climates and soil type, so I've had to learn to adjust to the land and what it could provide. The Garden of My Dreams is a garden that requires not only love but hard work, curiosity, persistence. And the ability to get over the ick-factor of crushing a few pestilent worms between one's fingers.

I walk around our place and note areas for future flower beds: there between three pine trees and a pecan tree, I'll dig a flower bed for perennials and add compost; I've started a composted pile of kitchen scraps and grass trimmings which I will dig under perhaps this fall. My husband has already planted a trumpet vine at the edge of that area, where it can clamber up one of the pine trees. Here I will transplant violets and low-growing plants to surround a bench. There I would like an arch covered with flowering vines, to serve as a magical entrance between the shady front yard and a sunny side yard.

garden spot in our yard in Georgia (2009)

tomatoes growing in a raised bed in Louisiana (2012)

The benefits I receive from the Garden of my Dreams are many: healthy exercise, beautiful blooms, and fresh food. But most of all, planning and envisioning the Garden of my Dreams gives me hope, something to look forward to, to work toward. The day's news might include the latest nasty political attack or disaster. I could be overcome with rage over the latest stupid pronouncement of some politician. Instead, I go walking in the Garden of My Dreams. And I don't really have to leave my desk. It's there. Always evolving. Rooted in the past, reaching toward the future. In my head. In my heart.

sunflowers growing in Louisiana (2012)

lizard among the morning glories (2012)