I’ll admit it: I’m a garden hussy. In fact, I’m currently having love affairs with numerous gardens all across town. I have no shame. With an insatiable appetite for all-things-gardening, no one garden will satisfy. Sadly, this week, I said goodbye to one on my most cherished. I’ll call her, Eden.
Years ago, I cut my professional gardening teeth on Eden. Upon meeting her, I was intimidated and awkward. She was graceful and welcoming. It wasn’t long, though, before I stopped getting lost in her three acres of nooks and crannies and starting getting lost in her perfect charm. A beautiful, give-and-take relationship ensued. I helped keep her lovely and healthy, and in return, well, she showed me nothing less than the world. I was smitten.
Seldom was there a day where Eden didn’t kindly offer a drink of inspiration to anyone who entered her home. An up-close look at the annual unfurling of hundreds of fiddleheads. Tribal-like woodpecker art on a cedar. Heart-racing close encounters with the local deer. Fuzzy kiwi fruits dangling from an arbor. Gasp-inducing Hydrangea blooms. Delicious fragrances that make you light on your feet. Day-long private concerts performed by a chorus of countless birds (all of whom were there fulfilling their own arrangement with Eden). These memories, plus a million more, are what I will carry with me as we part ways.
As someone who works and plays in the natural world, I understand the inevitability of change and its beauty. After all, the value in gardening, as in all things, is in the process. A garden is not an object, it’s an experience. And Eden has certainly delivered on experience.
So, on my last day, as the family was busy indoors sorting through books and preparing for their big move, I was outside helping collect a few shade-loving perennials for their new garden at their new home. I couldn’t help but take a few mementos for myself: a hunk of hellebore, an asparagus crown, a cutting from the papyrus plant. Then, I packed up my tools and took a slow walk around the property, soaking up as much as I could. I couldn’t help but worry about her future state. Will the new residents, and the lucky gardeners that come with them, know that she likes her asters cut back mid-season? Or that a close eye must be kept on the spearmint, lest it take over the shasta daisies? “Relax, I’ll be fine.” Eden said in her calming tone I’d come to depend on. Right, you’ll be just fine. And so will I. Tears welled.
So long, Eden. It’s been a pleasure. Call me sometime. We’ll reminisce.
*You can view a sneak-peek of Eden, in all her glory, here and also here. I took these videos in May of 2011, a day before the family hosted their son's wedding, hence the hustle and bustle you hear in the background.