Change Is Inevitable: Lessons From the Garden

Change is a part of life; we all know that. But while some changes are good, some are not so pleasant.  I like a change of scenery, a new hairdo, a new paint color on the walls,  But there are other situations where I'm perfectly content with the way things are, and when things begin to go in another direction, I become unsettled or stressed out.

My favorite flowering crabapple in full bloom in early May.

There are so many lessons learned from the garden, and the inevitability of change is one of the major ones.  Every spring I am a little sad to see the early blooms I enjoy so much fade away, and yet I know their end signals the beginning of something new as summer blooms slowly begin to take their place.  I am also consoled by the knowledge that they will return again next spring and delight me once again.

Every year, too, the gardener is faced the realization that she has lost some plants, whether to disease, pests, or the harshness of winter.  I lost several plants due to heaving, I think, because we had so little snow until late in the winter to protect them from the thawing/freezing cycle.  My Knockout roses, which I planted before I called myself a "gardener" and brought with me to this house eleven years ago, look half-dead this year.  Why?  I have no idea--I mean, how can you kill a Knockout rose??

'Brindisi' lily in previous years

The first Asiatic lily I planted, which had grown so huge in recent years and was definitely my favorite, is also a no-show this year.  I found it uprooted in the soil when I was cleaning up the garden back in early April.  I suspect it may have been a victim of a vole, since Sophie caught one nearby (after digging up a huge hole to find it).  I planted the pieces of bulb I could find, and I think a few little shoots are growing again.  But it will be a long time before this plant will grow to be the prolific bloomer it once was, if it ever will.

Not every change in the garden is a negative one, of course.  Plants grow, sometimes surpassing one's expectations.  Hostas in my shade garden have continued to grow by leaps and bounds.  Even after moving some to another area, the main shade garden is a jungle of green once again, to the point of taking over some of my favorite heucheras.  The same is true in the lily bed, where there suddenly is room for little else.

'Empress Wu' blooming for the first time.

The biggest change this spring for me, however, has not been in the garden, but with my mother. During the past year, we noticed she was having trouble with balance, and we were happy when she finally relented and began using a cane.  Other changes were more subtle, and it wasn't until she nearly collapsed one day and had to be taken to the hospital by ambulance, that we realized just how much her health had deteriorated.

Hollyhocks in the "wrong place," but I won't cut them down--they're a fond memory of my childhood, and the original plants came from my parents' home.

I know that many of you have experienced the same issues with aging parents, and I am thankful that my mother has recovered enough to return home.  But still it's difficult to see someone once so vibrant and always busy, whether quilting or putting up produce from her garden for the freezer, unable to do so many of the things she once enjoyed.  It's hard, too, to see my father suddenly becoming the caregiver, trying to mask his worry with a brave face for my mother.  At the same time, the love he has for my mother and the bond that these two have shared for nearly sixty-seven years is a true inspiration for all of us.

I try to ignore the weeds and the plants that badly need dividing or moving here and focus on the bright red poppies.

And so I am adjusting, too.  The garden, which once was my main obsession during the spring and summer, has been relegated to a lower priority.  I am letting go of the need for perfection--not that my garden was ever, ever anywhere near perfection!  The weeds are growing and growing, especially with all the rain, and I try to look past them to focus on the pretty blooms instead.  A few big projects I had planned for this year will just have to wait--after all, there will be another gardening season.

A coleus, a begonia, and a few leftover Profusion daisies thrown together in a pot.

I used to spend a lot of time planning the combinations of plants I wanted to plant in my containers. But when I found myself driving to visit my mother in the morning instead of leisurely mulling over all the plants I had purchased, I started just throwing things together in pots whether they color-coordinated or not.  And you know what--I like some of these just as much as those I planned!

The miniature Japanese garden still needs the dry garden completed and a little more tweaking, but I'll get to that one of these days.

I have always done every chore in the garden myself, except for the occasional help from the grandchildren.  But this year, I'm accepting more help.  Best friend Beckie came one morning to finish planting all the containers.  My granddaughter has been so busy this spring with various activities, but she came over one evening to help get the mini-Japanese garden in order once again.

She also created this simple little fairy garden in another area where nothing would grow in the rocky soil but sedums.  And whenever the rain finally stops, I'm hiring my friend's two granddaughters to help me weed and mulch the garden.

Do fairies like dogs?  I don't know, but I couldn't resist this addition to the fairy garden.  It's Sophie-approved and makes me smile every time I look at it.

As I am slowly learning to accept the changes over which I have no control, I have a new-found appreciation for the constants in my life and those small moments that can bring joy.

A little Zen time in the garden does wonders for the soul.

 Spending some time in the garden, for example, is one of the best therapies there is.  After a particularly stressful few days, I took a morning to work in the shade garden.  Nothing major, just a little weeding and planting.  But those few hours spent digging in the dirt on a beautiful day, listening to the birdsong with my faithful canine companions supervising at my side, did wonders for my spirits.

Ever so tiny, there's the beginning of a bloom here.

The garden reminds me,too, that there is always hope.  The Indian Pinks that I was so excited to find last year were a no-show this year, and I had resigned myself to accepting that they didn't like it here.  But just this past week, I noticed these--yes, they are tiny, but they are back and they will bloom!

And when it comes to constants, there is no plant that is as reliable as my beloved coneflowers.  Every year they return in greater numbers,  to the point that I have begun thinning them out a little.  But I can't bear to pull too many, because they are so faithful, a reminder that while the world around me may change, some things will always remain the same.  To me they represent the roots I have in this prairie soil, the land that my ancestors first tilled over 150 years ago.  They remind me that we are caretakers of this land for our short time here, but the land will be here for future generations. Change is inevitable, but life does go on.


I'm linking this post to Beth at Plant Postings' quarterly review of Lessons Learned in the Garden.

Early Spring at The Chicago Flower and Garden Show

One of the things I look forward to every March is going to the Chicago Flower and Garden Show with my friend Beckie.  It's a welcome breath of spring, especially when winter has dragged on too long, and it's a good way to get inspired for the coming garden season.

Being "country girls," we enjoy the sights and sounds of the Big City.  The show is held every year at Navy Pier, giving us a chance to see the the expanse of Lake Michigan as well.  I suppose seagulls are a common sight to locals, but not to us living in land-locked Downstate.

But as much as I enjoy visiting the Windy City, I don't enjoy the traffic, so Beckie and I travel up the evening before just south of the city to spend the night and take the train into Chicago the next morning.  It also gives us a chance to talk and catch up with each other--except on the train ride home, when we accidentally got into the Quiet Car at rush hour.  I don't think the two of us have ever refrained from talking for a whole hour ever before!

Going up a day before also gives us a chance to be refreshed and raring to go for a day of nonstop garden viewing.  This year a friend of Beckie's met us at the show; it was her first time attending the show, so it was fun to see everything through the eyes of a first-timer.  The entry display above did not disappoint as we walked through the doors.

Surrounding the entry display was a tall trellis filled with flowers.  We debated at first what they were, but my guess was camellias.  Apparently we weren't the only ones who were confused; later in the day, I noticed a handwritten sign someone had stuck in front of them reading, "Yes, these are camellias."  It did seem a little strange that designers had chosen a plant, lovely as it is, that we can't even grow in the Midwest!

The theme of this year's show was "Do Green, Do Good." This display garden called "A Little Bit of Ireland" showed a different kind of "green."

It included several authentic, if rather different, garden accessories.  I don't think any of us would add this to our garden!

An interesting part of the display that drew everyone's attention was this round stone hut.  It reminded me of a very small Hobbit house.

One feature of the show each year is called "Tablescapes," different dining area tableaus created by local floral designers.  This one was rather over the top, but we enjoyed seeing all the succulent arrangements.

Most of the table displays were rather elaborate, but this designer decided to appeal to a different audience.  I wonder if any of the visitors turned to their spouse and said, "Honey, we could do this on our patio!"

Another yearly exhibit is by a group of female textile artists, Women's Journeys in Fibers.  This year the assignment was creating a mask as a self-portrait, and each work was accompanied by an explanation by the artist.  This piece was entitled "Ma Bell Transformed."

My favorite, though, was this garden-themed piece entitled "Maia, Goddess of Spring."

We have gone to the Chicago show for the last six or seven years and have developed a little more critical eye, I suppose.  No longer are we those garden innocents who walked around oohing and aahhing in wonderment as we did our first year.  But the truth is, the exhibitors have downsized since the first two years we attended.  There was the usual creative and large waterfall pictured above.

And one company which specializes in water features had its customary large exhibit of ponds and small waterfalls.

They include a lot of stone as well in their designs; not sure what this was supposed to be--a mini-Stonehenge?

But this exhibitor was the exception, rather than the rule. I remember one year talking to a representative at one of the exhibits who told us about the tons of stone they brought in just for the week-long exhibit.  Most of the displays now are much smaller and less elaborate.

One interesting display garden highlighted the plight of the Monarch and was designed to educate visitors on how to create a butterfly-friendly garden.  But as I looked around, I noticed the plantings were mostly annuals with no natives or specific host plants for the butterflies.  Plant selection throughout the whole show seemed less imaginative in past years with few that caught our eye and sent us scrambling for an i.d. tag.

But enough with the criticism!  There is still so much to see at the show that it is well worth the trip. One exhibit that was different from any I've seen in past years was simply called "A Classic Rose Garden."   Filled with a variety of roses, it was a rosarian's delight.  I don't have many roses in my garden, but I've heard so many good things about 'Julia Child' (above) that I might have to find room in my garden for this one.

The Chicago High School for Agricultural Sciences always has an interesting display.  This year to follow the theme of "Do Green," their exhibit was called "Tiny House, Big (Little) Garden."  The focus of the exhibit was the tiniest house I've ever seen, showing how one could live in a much smaller space reducing our ecological footprint.  The gardens around the house showed how one could make the most of limited garden space, too, including many compact plants and several miniature gardens.

Note the pine cones used to build this miniature house.  I never got the chance to ask if the students had built this themselves, but it certainly was creative.

Another display garden also included some miniature gardens with lots of attention to detail:

Certainly plenty of ideas for any fairy-garden lover!

After seeing all the different exhibits, we always make sure to leave an hour or more to visit the vendors before having to leave.  I made a beeline for my favorite vendor, the bulb company, where you can purchase any of the bulbs seen in their gorgeous tulip exhibit.  This year I succumbed to the charms of 'Mata Hari,' pictured above.

Although I didn't buy any more of these, I was happy to see 'Patrick's Mix' in their display garden.  I purchased these bulbs last year and am looking forward to seeing them blooming in my own garden very, very soon!

We spent the better part of the day at the show, but still didn't see everything.  Somehow we missed the window box exhibit this year and didn't take time to go through the photography exhibit.  There are also cooking demonstrations, activities for kids, and different gardening seminars throughout every day of the show.  The Chicago Flower and Garden Show is well worth visiting, and yes, we do plan to go back next year!

Why I Don't Have Houseplants

Frances' fairy garden was a great inspiration!

Gardening trends come and go, and I don't usually pay much attention to them--my garden is never going to be featured in a magazine, that's for sure.  But one popular trend in gardening that has piqued my interest lately is fairy gardening, especially after seeing so many delightful miniature landscapes in various gardens this past year.  I had finally decided on the perfect place to create a home for the pixies in my own garden, so when my friend Beckie asked me to go with her to a workshop on fairy gardening at a local garden center this fall, I eagerly agreed. 

The workshop was mainly focused on creating an indoor fairy garden, but the best part was the 30% off coupon all of the particpants received. I bought a few accessories that struck my fancy, but passed on the bottle of fairy dust--a tiny plastic jar of glitter selling for $3.00 (!).  I was going to put them away until spring, but that coupon was still burning a hole in my pocket, and I thought what the heck--an indoor fairy garden would be something fun for the winter, so I bought an inexpensive shallow pot and several small indoor plants.

My granddaughter came over one day, and together we planted the fairy garden; I let her choose where to place the curved path and bench, and she even managed to squeeze in the curved bridge.  The end result wasn't anything spectacular, especially since it had neither a fairy or a house, but we had fun nonetheless.

After the storm

When the weather began to turn cooler, I brought the little garden inside, finding a temporary home for it near the patio doors.  Not a good idea as it turned out: one morning I noticed that some kind of freak storm had hit the fairy garden and uprooted several plants.  I pushed them gently back into the soil, hoping they would recover, and began to wonder about this strange meteorological occurrence. Another result of climate change, perhaps?

Only a little polka-dot plant remains.

Oddly enough, the same storm hit several more times over the course of the next week until one morning I found the garden upturned, with most of the soil on my carpet, the bridge upended, and most of the plants past rescuing.

I had begun to form a plausible hypothesis, and sure enough, my suspicions were confirmed one day when I noticed a streak of gray out of the corner of my eye.

 Don't let this innocent face fool you.  The evidence was overwhelming: pawprints were taken, and sure enough, traces of potting soil were found. The mess was cleaned up, but I guess the fairies will have to wait until spring for a new home that will be safe from Storm Widget!

And that, my friends, is why I don't have houseplants.