Oct 11, 2011


This is my first opportunity to write since May – that’s the Prospero magic a garden can cast over your life.

After what can only be described as a miserable summer (for us spring never ended) fall has arrived. Steady cold rain shuffled with a dark cloud deck heavy with showers, wind, and the scent of snow, presupposing, I suppose, a dreary, if not a loosing hand. Still, we work/play almost every day in the garden, lately in what we call our Conifer Garden, adding new evergreens and understory plants (we try to plant those listed as zone 4 or lower, but sometimes add a particularly desirable plant or two, or three, only rated zone 5/6) as often as our meager income allows. It is sometimes disconcerting to realize the trees you are planting today will not reach a reasonable or appreciable size until long after you yourself are providing nutrients for their growth. Even worse is thinking about those who may live here twenty years from now, people (?) who will simply call in the logger and the backhoe and carve out a place to park their 1200 square foot recreational vehicle (?) wondering all the time what kind of ‘fruitcake’ planted all the firewood.

OK, this is not our garden, yet. Butchart Garden, BC, Canada

Anyway, this morning the rain was continuous and filled my rubber boots so I spent the afternoon listening to Bob Dylan, sipping a glass or two of $3.00 Pinot Grigio, and working with the many cuttings I have taken over the past few months, [I couldn’t help noticing cuttings taken from a Meidiland rose on 8.3.11 had already sent roots through the bottom of their pots. Up to now only Darlow’s Enigma as been so accommodating] I did manage to heel-in several dozen potted plants and collect too much seed from too many plants before my fingers stiffened from the cold. Too many books to read, too much music, too many ragged poems to write. Never enough books to read, and never enough music or poems to bathe in.

This is part of our embryonic conifer garden.

My head is too filled with words and thoughts after a five-month hiatus, what a hodgepodge.

Appropriately Dylan is singing “Restless Farewell” at this moment, so, if not farewell, goodnight.