Eight years ago I began to create a new garden on a blank canvas, literally a piece of ground that was cleared, tilled, and composted. This spring the fruits of this endeavor have never been more apparent. Leaving the garden behind in a move to a new home has me grieving in a way only another gardener can understand. We all know the costs of creating a garden, whatever the design, but what is priceless is the time that goes by after things are planted, start to adapt and settle in, deciding to live on where they find themselves, to flourish and charm. Ironically, I am moving to another blank canvas where nothing has been done except fencing for enclosure. I’m thrilled about that because in my current garden I had to plant trees and add fencing, which only now is paying off with a feeling of intimacy to the space.
As a writer, I often find that I must write myself into a scene, which takes time, before I arrive where I needed to be all along. I hope to write myself beyond grief over leaving my garden. Christopher Lloyd, the famous English gardener I have written about in an earlier blog, told me….”We plant for the next generation.” I know this is true, but in my heart, just now, it wasn’t the next owners of the house and garden I’d been thinking of.