Something Old, Something New

We bought our current house long before I ever had dreams of digging in the dirt. The urban 1/3 of an acre attracted us because there was room for the dogs to roam and the land buffered us from our neighbors. Little did I think then, that I would follow my mother’s passion for gardening but it has become one of my greatest obsessions.

In 1976 the yard represented something wild to be tamed. Now mind you, I stand 5’ 2” tall. And in the fall of 1976 I could stand at one side of the yard and my 6’ 3” husband could not find me amongst the overgrowth. So my first taste of gardening was more along the lines of search and destroy not plant and nurture.

Today the garden spreads over more than two-thirds of the property. It is a blend of English cottage garden, Northwest natives, free spirited decadence and a touch of “dumb gardener” thrown in, just to keep me humble.

I will miss the garden far more than the house. Because although we spent 10 long years remodeling every square inch of the house, once the house was completed, it was done. The garden is never, never done. I get no sense of accomplishment from vacuuming the carpet but give me a fresh load of compost to spread and stand back!

Over the last 29 years, I grew up in this garden. I buried my precious pets in this garden. I wept at the loss of my parents underneath an old apple tree no longer standing in this garden. I celebrated Cinco de Mayos, Fourth of Julys and parties just to party with friends in this garden. I have solved the problems of the world while gardening in this garden. And I have found Zen in this garden.

It has not always been a wonderful Gaia experience. Did I mention the “dumb gardening days”? We all know these times, when we have caught ourselves mourning a crispy and expensive corpse, thinking, “How could I have thought this plant could EVER live in full sun?!”. Muddling through embarrassingly ugly plant combinations and thinking that “vigorous” is a descriptor for an easy care plant. I will walk away from the lion’s share of this when we pack up and move 12 blocks later this year, I hope.

I lie awake some early mornings thinking of the “what ifs”….what if the garden I am inheriting was truly wonderful (which, it is not), would I have such a tug at my heart?….what if I make the same dumb mistakes with my new garden as I have with my current one?….what if the soil in the new garden is never as good as I have here?…what if the new garden I build is downright ugly?….what if I tire of the VIEW?

In an attempt to get over this profound feeling of loss and uncertainly I have begun to invest in the new garden and disinvest in the current one. I held a “Big Dig” this fall. Five hearty gardeners helped to dig five-dozen plants from my current garden and haul them to the new property. This will be repeated in the spring. Although the transplant survivors are only healed into a few temporary nursery beds, I can feel myself warming to the change and rising to the challenge because the VIEW is ALL that the new garden has going for it.

The new garden is, for all intents and purposes a vast wasteland of grass, native shrubs (read: boringly common varieties of rhodies, camellias and azaleas with sprinkling of withering mildewed roses on their last legs) and old, very, very, old fruit trees. Add to the mix chemicals, so many kinds and in such quantities that one has to believe in God because it is a miracle that these poor plants still survive at all. I don’t believe the soil has seen an amendment since the Eisenhower era. And to top it off the former owners hired a Hedge Nazi who followed the philosophy that the only good shrub was one shaped like a meatball. The goods news here is, there is nowhere to go but up.

I have always regarded naming your garden as somewhat narcissistic and a little silly. But this year when our move became imminent, it suddenly seemed like a very good idea, a legacy of sorts, a branding, an identifier. And so after much gnashing of teeth I have a name for the “old” garden and another for the new one. The “old” garden shall be here to fore known as “Wee Bonny Flats” because the new garden will be named “Wee Bonny Butte”. Wish me luck.

Bonnie Bruce