Splendor
Most gardeners, sometimes not knowingly, have an idealized image of what a garden should be and aspire to recreate it, slightly altered of course by the real conditions of their site. Mine is a bright summer morning in my grandfather’s garden.
Since this image fashioned my earliest memories, I never questioned what went into the creation of a landscape that seemed to flow so naturally together. For the longest time I thought that vineyards came complete with twenty foot chords and sturdy supports, that trees got weighed down with fruit the minute you finished planting them, and arched rose bushes reached twelve feet of densely packed blossoms during their first year. By the time I was old enough to appreciate it, the garden was already over forty years old.
I didn’t realize then that having flowers constantly in bloom, growing one’s medicinal plants and quite literally producing all the food was not something that happened by a quirk of fate, but it evolved out of the loving dedication, acquired skill and genuine enjoyment of an accomplished gardener.
His example did not impart on me a green thumb, one has to earn that through learning and experience, trial and error, but it gave me the knowledge that this abundance, this balance, this almost perfect self supporting environment exists. It made the all important difference between believing and knowing that I can have a beautiful garden too.
Both failure and success are humbling to gardeners, failure because it makes us realize that everything doesn’t always work out, and success because it makes us realize that it isn’t our ability alone that brought it forth.
Deep pink roses are a symbol of gratitude, appreciation and happiness. Now, more than one hundred years since my grandfather’s birth I wish to honor his memory with this photo and thank him for teaching me the simplicity of the possible.
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