and show them: Here is consolation."
Paisley Rekdal, "Happiness"
I am leaving my Louisiana garden. Tom and I are moving to another state, a state with much less rainfall and a cooler, drier climate. I leave this garden with some sadness, as it has provided me with entertainment and comfort as well as the beauty of flowers, the spice of herbs and the nourishment of food. Perhaps it's for the best that I am leaving in late winter/early spring, before regret can reach full flower in the azaleas of mid-March, the daylilies of May, the zinnias of late June, the tomatoes of July.
Right now the garden looks abandoned, because it has been since late November. Except for gathering winter greens, I let the garden go for December and most of January. During a sunny spell last week, I began weeding the patio garden, which was full of chick weed, and adding pine straw that I had raked in our north lot. Violets are already beginning to bloom.
The real estate agent who came by on the weekend was very likely not impressed with the winter yard and gardens, as the grass was brown, the ground thoroughly soaked by more than 3 inches of rain; a stinkhorn was wafting its nauseating odor near the edge of the patio (an annual event this time of year); the herb beds were bare of greenery except for the rosemary bush, the bolting arugula, and the pervasive chick weed that no amount of fall weeding seems to curtail; and empty flower pots were stacked near the garden hose and faucet. The agent's effusive compliments over the photos I later sent her of the garden in its summer glory suggested that the contrast had been noticed.
We have bought and sold several houses over the course of some 32 years --seven houses, counting this one--so we have some experience in preparing a house for sale. We have re-painted walls and front doors, de-cluttered, re-arranged furniture for staging, swept and mopped and dusted and cleaned. But I can't hasten spring or make the bright annuals I usually plant from seed flower in February. We will be gone this year before the ground warms up enough for zinnia seeds. though the azaleas may just be budding as we pull out of the driveway. Any residual radiancy of my garden will be for the benefit of strangers as we head to a less hospitable gardening habitat.
rosemary and black-eyed Susans in July |
summer abundance, 2014 |