I realize this could apply to almost any aspect of my life, but right now we're talking about the garden, the back berm to be precise.
If you've been reading me for any time at all you might recall I used to have eight 30' Leylands planted there.
They grew and grew and protected my delicate vision from the rather large hotel that looms over my tiny house. In front of the trees were some shrubs and bulbs, patches of liriope and a few struggling perennials. The berm didn't hold water too well.
Yes, there is an alley, and a row of townhouses and a street that physically separate me and the hotel, but the Leylands provided the all so important illusion of privacy.
Then came Hurricane Sandy and the first one fell.
The rest all listed to the right and were just waiting for one stiff breeze to topple over. So down they went.
I had to wait till the following spring to get a 7ft fence built. Then I agonized over what to plant, where the $$$ would come from, how I would ever to be able to dig a hole in the unforgiving soil.
This spring my vision cleared and I got a helper. A man named Donald who lives in my 'hood and used to garden for a few clients. He told me he knew I wasn't rich and he wasn't looking to get rich off me, but he'd love to help.
So every other Sunday I have Donald come by and for not enough money, he's made last summer's dreams come true.
He moved the poor shrubs from the bottom of the berm where they grew all pitched forward as if begging for alms, up to the top in front of the fence. They are standing tall and proud. The choke cherry has suffered the greatest shock but I think she's gonna make it.
He moved plants under my deck that suddenly suffered from lack of shade. Dug up 2/3's of a patch of black eyed susans, moved 3 clumps to the back berm and I donated the rest to unsuspecting neighbors.
I dreamed of a cotinus and wondered about planting a curly willow that was growing in a pot by my front door. They are both in place.
Now I'm mulched, the icing on the cake.
Dream it and it can happen.
Don't let me forget this. It may not happen as quickly as I want it to, but give time, time and miracles can happen.
Hell I waited 7 years for the climbing hydrangeas to get up to speed.
If you had asked me in February ,when I was hanging around with a cast on my arm, unable to even put toothpaste on my toothbrush what I thought the garden would look like this summer I would have cried, and did.
Oh me of little faith.
xo J
and many thanks to all of you who participated in or viewed FITH. It was a great party. July?
