Iris – Gardens For Goldens

Spring Tuning

There is a magical moment, just before the orchestra begins, when the oboe gives a note and the instruments are tuned in a chaotic staccato of strings, horns and reeds. A short, breathless pause follows as the conductor raises the wand – before a symphony explodes in synchronized waves of sound. The gardener knows this as early spring.

A tulip appears,

then an iris,

an apple blossom,

and tiny Clematis buds unwind –

as if the whole garden is standing tall and ready – preparing to come alive.

We are firmly in that magical period of early spring now.

The heart can literally skip a beat in anticipation –if only the back didn’t ache from the thought of the overwhelming work ahead! Roses and fruit trees to be fed – weeds to be pulled – lawns to be seeded – paths restored – mulch laid. The list is endless. But attacked with joy.

“Spring drew on…and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps.” ~ Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

There is another sign of early spring – even more miraculous. More to come.

The Morning Fog

“You can only come to the morning through the shadows.” ~ J.R.R. Tolkien

In the early morning fog,

I have the garden all to myself.

Almost.

Unfolding

“The flowers of late winter and early spring occupy places in our hearts well out of proportion to their size.” ~ Gertrude S. Wister

Wordless Wednesday: Iris…faith, hope, wisdom…spring

Accidental Gardener

I am an accidental gardener. Come to think of it, I’m an accidental everything: gardener, photographer, blogger, and rescue supporter. These were not planned; I was just drawn to them and happened upon people who graciously showed me the way.

A fellow blogger, Helen Johnstone of the Patient Gardener’s Weblog, shared a new book: the “First Ladies of Gardening.” Normally, a title like that would put me straight off. But I admire Helen’s blog, so I ordered it. And I’m so glad I did!

I did not grow up with gardens or gardeners. I vaguely recall that my grandmother grew flowers to inspire her paintings, but I spent very little time with either. What I have learned has been the result of trial and error, as well as lessons from my gardener partners at the Homeward Bound Memorial Garden.

In “First Ladies of Gardening,” I learned names like Gertrude Jekyll, Vita Sackville-West – whose directive “cram, cram, cram” I already follow – and Beth Chatto, who believed that making a garden was like making a family.

But there is one gardener whose spirit I admire just as much as her garden: Margery Fish and her cottage garden at East Lambrook Manor.

Margery Fish did not begin gardening until she was in her forties. Quietly rebellious – the author shares – she allowed small plants to grow in the crevices of her husband’s perfectly groomed paths, and inadvertently stopped watering his “proper” plant choices in favor of her leafy, wild and rare perennials. New plants that mysteriously appeared were explained as “gifts” that simply could not be refused. The garden – once a jungle – was planted in abundance and self-sowing seeds were left to distribute unexpected surprises that kept the garden looking natural and unfussy.

Margery Fish believed that you can’t rush a garden. You need to get the feel of its surroundings, and then it grows by degrees.

Our Memorial Garden has grown this way. Pushing out and overflowing its ever-enlarged beds, blooming with donated gifts,

filled with surprise remembrances,

and dressed – of course – with dogs.

I think every garden needs dogs.

We have a long way to go to match the majesty of East Lambrook Manor, but I am filled with inspiration.

And did I mention…dogs?

Spring Equinox

“Every spring is the only spring – a perpetual astonishment.” ~ Ellis Peters

Happy first day of Spring. To all your far-flung corners of the world, I hope it arrives as quick as a bunny!

Something to Dream On

“She turned to the sunlight
And shook her yellow head,
And whispered to her neighbor:
“Winter is dead.” ~ A.A. Milne, When We Were Very Young

With a brief, but welcome rain this week, followed by unseasonably warm temperatures, the garden truly came to life.

I should stop saying “unseasonably warm” and just get accustomed to it. Those who don’t believe in climate change surely are not gardeners.

Sarah is back; returned from a year of hard labor on the graveyard/weekend shift at work. We have missed her in the garden.

I love getting to the garden early before everyone else arrives. It’s my chance to survey and see what has newly popped up,

begun to blossom,

or made its way into the garden beds thanks to those mischievous elves.

This is my time to take a few photos,

and to enjoy the company of the garden creatures; nesting Killdeer…

worm-hunting Robins…

sleepy lizards…

and rare yellow ducks.

My solitude is broken by the play of puppies in the adjacent yard…

and dog walkers – not just passing through – but stopping to sit and play now that the weather is warm.

“You have to give people something to dream on.” ~ Jimi Hendrix

We give you the Homeward Bound Memorial Garden in spring.

The Color of Springtime

To my frozen blogger friends and family on the east coast, I send a tiny bit of spring and offer this deal: if you’ll send water in form of melted snow and ice, we’ll keep sending flowers. 🙂

“The color of springtime is in the flowers; the color of winter is in the imagination.” ~ Terri Guillemets

Oops…those sneaky dogs!!
Stay warm all (and use lots and lots of imagination until spring).

Wordless Wednesday: Reawakening

Worth Working For

Now begins the time when every day turns up another treasure – a hint of how the garden will take shape this year.

Lots of people appreciate the final result, but a gardener takes pleasure in watching each step that unfolds from their labor.

Now I know, a refuge never grows
from a chin in the hand and a thoughtful pose
Gotta tend the earth if you want a rose. ~ Indigo Girls

It’s a cliché – and it’s true – anything worth having usually has to be worked for.

I hear over and over…”We’re looking for a young dog.” What they often really mean is, “I’m looking for a perfect young dog.” They want a dog that is socialized to others, bonds quickly, has impeccable house manners, and knows all those things we call rules (don’t we all?!). When a young dog has all of that going for it, it is because someone invested all of the hard work required to get it there. And you generally won’t find them surrendered.

Our young four-legged kids are generally not “perfect” – because someone didn’t take the time to make them so. But that does not mean they don’t have the potential. Young rescue dogs are often like adolescent humans in so many ways. Willful, a little wild, often insecure, sometimes mouthy, but ultimately trainable and loveable – if someone will just make the effort.

Our Lucky is one of these.

It pains me to see him passed over because he is still a work in progress, especially at his young age of eighteen months. He’s thoroughly adorable – if a little rebellious – and a bundle of playful energy.