“A garden is not a place: it is a passage, a passion.
We don’t know where we’re going;
to pass through is enough;
to pass through is to remain.” ~ Octavio Paz
I am never alone in the garden. When all have left and I have it to myself, I am still surrounded by the memories of all that remain.
“In the spring I have counted one hundred and thirty-six different kinds of weather inside of four and twenty hours.” ~ Mark Twain
Friday, I played hooky for a few hours and snuck out to the garden. Within minutes, I was peeling off layers like an onion and thinking it was time to move the winter clothes into storage. A week of mid-70’s in early February gets me dreaming about planting spring annuals, but I have wised up a bit through the years.
The city gardens – tucked in and protected from the elements creating their own micro-climate – scream “spring!”
But the Homeward Bound Memorial Garden knows otherwise. A few brave bulbs, the rosemary, and the Ceanothus have appeared,
but the rest of the garden felt a change was in the wind – literally.
It blew in from the north on Saturday – 25 mph of cold in our faces and dropping our reality down a more seasonable twenty degrees. I know. Quit whining. You’re California-spoiled.
Truth be told, none of us are quite ready for spring yet. Spring means summer – and those 100+ degree days will be here soon enough.
So stay tucked under the covers little bulbs, and don’t quite unwrap yet tiny buds –
We’ll take a few more weeks of sweatshirts and Golden blankets.
And some rain would be lovely, too.
“The course of the seasons is a piece of clock-work, with a cuckoo to call when it is springtime.” ~ Georg Christoph Lichtenberg
Everybody in the pool! The dog days of summer are upon us.
We’re getting a taste this weekend of what promises to be a long hot summer.
In the morning, everyone is busy trying to get in their work,
play –
and tussles
before the heat calls for a long, lazy nap.
The good news: as the thermometer brushes 100-degrees, the searing sun kills the black spot fungus spores that have invaded our roses.
Never before have we been faced with this scourge. But never, in the garden’s history, have we had such a long, cool, wet winter. While its spread is, so far, limited, I wonder: remove the offenders now – or prepare to do battle as the seasons change?
This is a simple, inconsequential thing to ponder in the scheme of things. The decision for our new arrival, Eddie was a little harder.
A recent transport from a rescue group we work with in China, he had been hit by a car and his little leg – left untreated – was growing in crooked. With one growth plate progressing and the other halted, the leg would eventually adopt a 90-degree angle ensuring a painful break in his future. Our Doc decided it was best to say goodbye to the leg now – while he was young enough and resilient enough to recover fully.
It’s hard to see him go through this trauma at such a young age and so soon after his arrival, but we know that putting the worst behind quickly means a better and happier future ahead.
Ina suggests patience with the roses; so they will remain for now. Which is just as well. It is TOO HOT for another chore.
We opt instead for lounging on the grass.
A dip in the pool.
And lazing in the shade.
It is May. And the dog days of summer are upon us.
Gardens For Goldens 