Thursday, June 8, 2017

Six Summers Ago

I used to keep a different garden blog than this journal. One July six years ago I put up a post on that blog just in fun -- I didn't think it would ever come true, but I amused myself with a little humor at the time

Now it is coming true.

You can re-read it here: A Letter to the New Homeowners (written July 28, 2011)

Exactly six years later I could now write a real version of that letter to real people who are closing on this house August 2. We have buyers for our home, and the deal is inked. We're moving.

While it will be hard to leave this garden I created, in many ways I look at it as my lab. When I started in 2005, I knew nothing whatsoever about horticulture and I experimented on this blank lot, making many errors and learning so much.

Am I walking away from my mistakes? Yes, a little -- there are things here I wouldn't do now that I know more. Some can be adjusted, like plant crowding or bad siting, but major things, like poor mechanical design of the dry creekbed or the unworkability of a garden under a maple tree can't be changed.

There are other problems, and every garden has them. If I was staying maybe I'd tackle some of the issues, but really, I'm no longer up for rehab projects. My experiments have been rewarding -- really, richly rewarding -- but I'm ready to be done messing around, and let someone else figure out how this garden could be edited, or perhaps professionally managed, or I guess even . . . . um, . . . eliminated?

These are no longer my decisions. Meanwhile for the remainder of the summer here, I am thoroughly enjoying my favorite plants, all my successes, and every inch of this laboratory of rookie garden design -- what a glorious place it turned out to be, mistakes and all.

5 comments:

  1. As with gardens that go thru seasons and change with each one, so also our lives mimic this ever evolving world. You are now set for another adventure, another type of growing. Your journey here, has been awesome, fearless and life affirming. You take that part of the garden with you. It's glories never leave your senses. You will look out at something, and instantly you are back in the garden tackling a new character building moment that the green lays out for you. I wish you happiness on all your journeys, peace on all your coming homes and love to hold them all gently in your heart, forever. "Happy Trails"!♡

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  2. As with gardens that go thru seasons and change with each one, so also our lives mimic this ever evolving world. You are now set for another adventure, another type of growing. Your journey here, has been awesome, fearless and life affirming. You take that part of the garden with you. It's glories never leave your senses. You will look out at something, and instantly you are back in the garden tackling a new character building moment that the green lays out for you. I wish you happiness on all your journeys, peace on all your coming homes and love to hold them all gently in your heart, forever. "Happy Trails"!♡

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  3. Happy for you that you sold your house, but sad for those who have followed your blog over the years.

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  4. Fun revisiting your 2011 post ... think I might have been one of the visitors saying "Do you known how Big." Still a favorite garden memory is you and the persimmon trees on the plane. Onward! High Desert Gardening.

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    1. You were - you looked at what I had stuck in the ground and said, stunned, "do you know how big that's going to get?" And you were right! How I will miss my persimmon tree -- only one of the two I carried home on the plane has survived, but it is big and beautiful now (no persimmons, it's a male)

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