THE BIG PICTURE
Yesterday was a beautiful day to be outside and I was lucky enough to spend most of it gardening. I weeded, thinned out plants, installed at least one hundred spring-flowering bulbs, hacked back some wayward ornamental grasses and staked a few sagging, end-of-the- season mums. I checked on a honeysuckle that had been cut back to the ground after a bout of mildew, and was gratified to find that it was sprouting new leaves. Since a well-rooted honeysuckle can withstand a flame thrower attack, the resurrection was not unexpected, but I counted it as a feather in my cap anyway.
It was the best kind of garden day–lots to be done and plenty of time to do it. I worked hard and fast and got very sweaty. The tiredness at the end was the satisfying kind of fatigue that you get when you have worked hard and achieved a lot. There was only one problem. The garden on the receiving end of all that toil wasn’t mine.
I pursue two kinds of paid employment: writing and gardening. The writing, which is published in various places including magazines, newspapers and the internet, originates in my home office and can be done in any kind of weather. The gardening takes place on several properties that I tend regularly and can only be done during the growing season. Unfortunately, my home garden also needs tending during that time and when the other parts of my life get tough and hectic, the garden gets short shrift.
I only work for people that I like and I am very attached to their gardens. I evaluate my clients’ garden layouts in ways that I cannot do with my own and that makes me a better gardener. In other people’s gardens there are no distractions and there is ample time for both routine work like pruning and deadheading, and more creative tasks like moving plants around to make better combinations. I can focus my thoughts because being paid for something makes me feel guilty when my mind strays to anything else.
Sometimes over the course of these past few months, I have longed for the weeks last summer when I was getting ready to host my best friend’s wedding reception. Having a hard deadline gave me an excuse to devote large chunks of time to the garden. I was stiff and sore many days in a row, which didn’t bother me because the tasks that made me stiff and sore were so satisfying. I took a lot of aspirin, but at the end of each day I felt peaceful. Now I want to feel peaceful again.
I remember reading somewhere that horticultural professionals often get so busy telling others what to do that their own gardens languish. It’s absolutely true.
Fortunately, due to a bout of unseasonable weather, this year’s growing season is not quite over, so there is time to get back into my own garden. I could spend all my time raking leaves and tending to the hedges, but that isn’t nearly creative enough. To reinvigorate myself I have to start by taking a fresh look at the big picture.
I am a plant collector and I get like a magpie whenever I go to a garden center. When I am busy with non-gardening matters, I tend to install my acquisitions wherever there is room, usually after they have languished for a long period of time in the plant holding area. Often my little plant communities get overcrowded, with the occupants of various beds fighting for dominance. Individual plants get lost–sometimes literally–and are not showcased properly. Within the next few weeks I want to come up with a layout for the front garden that reshapes beds and groups plants in a way that alleviates overcrowding. While I do all the physical labor necessary to accomplish that feat, I can get reacquainted with my existing plants, install the few still waiting in the perpetual limbo of the holding area before the ground turns as hard as rock and get the last of my my spring bulbs into the ground.
Will I really get all of that done? Probably not, but even if I have only reshaped the front beds, I will have changed the big picture and given myself enough exercise and inspiration to tide me through the winter.