Courtesy of Monrovia

Catalyzed no doubt by the merging of full spring and Mother’s Day, this week marks the accomplishment of something I’d been thinking about and planning for a few years. I’m not sure why some things “take time.” Perhaps the sheer doing of this deepens the acceptance of my Grandmother’s no longer being a part of this Earthly existence. Regardless, I have at last arranged, after many phone calls and much research, for a nurseryman in Utah to plant a peony next to my Grandmother’s grave. I have chosen the Shirley Temple peony you see above. This plant bespeaks the beauty and elegance and understatedness of my Grandmother’s life here, while simultaneously declaring in volumes the fact that her presence demanded space, appreciation, acknowledgment and attention. The edges of this flower remind me dearly of any large silk flower she might have worn upon her bodice or hat. Indeed, do those outer petals remind you of silk tulle, or not? Always attracted to the fine, this is a flower worthy of marking her life. Christine Christensen, a remarkable woman. An artist in her own right. Once established this plant will bloom each year for many many decades next to her green marble gravestone with minimal care. Adjacent to the white flowers visitors will find these words engraved on her stone:

Many the treasures
She leaves behind
And carries forth

Synchronicity played her hand as I was making these arrangements, as she is wont to do with those inclined to be watching for her. In response to my last post on community gardening, I heard from Julie Rice, a very very distant cousin in Ohio, whom I know through my genealogy research. In this case my gggguncle Erastus married the sister of a gggrandmother of Julie’s. (I know. It’s ridiculous that I know such things, but I love the complexity and the miracle of finding these people, as do they. You can get high simply contemplating the unlikelihood.) Here’s what Julie wrote:

We have been using the back yard as a “test garden” to see what thrives with benign neglect. The successful plants are then added to the local union cemeteries, Walnut Grove (1859) and Flint (1831) which are also used as parkland, passive recreation/arboretums for the local population. Working on the Union Cemetery advisory board has been one of the most rewarding things I have ever done. It’s a joy to be adding to gardens that you know will be there for hundreds of years to come. Many of the old plantings came out of the yards of the old Worthington homes. Mostly it is historical shrubs, peonies, daffodils, iris, and day lilies that have survived and spread. We don’t use pesticides on the grass so right now Walnut Grove is a blanket of forest wildflowers, mostly violets.

What?? Within days we were on the phone, exchanging ideas and photographs, as, of course, it was the very thing I was involved in at that moment–finding which plants would survive over time in a distant cemetery. What is most extraordinary and extremely fortunate is that Julie has multiple degrees in Earth Sciences. Indeed, she is a Senior Scientist for a private firm in addition to being on the board for the local union cemetery. I found her research to be so invaluable, I am encouraging her to start her own blog documenting all she is discovering. But meanwhile, we are blessed to have access to some of her early information.

Here are two of the plants being tested in Julie’s yard, which have passed the rigorous standards they are employing (basically letting things be!) and have already been introduced into the cemetery:

Mary Queen of Scots roses

white violets

Now introduced into the cemetery are these same white violets:

Following their blossoming they are simply mowed along with the grass. Simple.

Is this not a concept that warms your heart and action muscle? I am so enchanted with the idea that our gardening efforts might readily extend not simply to our own back yards, where who knows what will become of our dear creations eventually, but also that we have a palette and tools to contribute to those who follow, simply by cultivating plants that will endure the miles and distance, natualizing as they come and go. Lovely, lovely, lovely.

May the spirit of this intitiative whisper into many fertile hearts and minds and souls, and may it take root for the benefit of all who follow. Blessings be.

Heartfully,
Kathryn xoxo

Posted on May 14th, 2008 by Kathryn
Filed under: Plants | 20 Comments »

Well, dear readers, you may as well know the truth. This post was *strictly* supposed to be about my continued adventure with bamboo, but something got in the way. Yes, the rose fairies, and there you have it. I’ve said it straight out. What’s a girl to do? I tried to tell them this space was reserved for BAMBOO, but, no, they wouldn’t have it. And so after being plied by overwhelmingly intoxicating fragrances and colors that frankly made me swoon, and several attempts to explain the meaning of the words Out of Context, words that went softly sweeping into an offshore breeze, the letters falling like petals into the neighbors’ gardens, well, I finally succumbed to their overwhelming silent argument and here we are, a just truce. So you will notice our sublime agree-ment. They get top billing. (You can see why.) And then one paragraph (and perhaps a photo) for me, then a rose. And that’s how it is. The juxtaposition of the reds and greens of my current reality. Amen. Now on with my story, Bamboo/Part Two. What? Oh, all right. You’re right. It was a paragraph and it is your turn. (Isn’t this ridiculous?)

So the bamboo plot thickens! As now I have two bamboo plants, but not one I can use as a screen to replace the annoying ivy that covers the fence between my property and the one next door, thereby creating a privacy screen in support of my sunbathing propensities and my private yoga deck which is still in the planning stages. Thus my attention returns to the very neighbors in favor of replacing the ivy with bamboo, who are hoping against hope that the dreaded ivy will disappear (probably after decades of trimming it as it has crept through their fence, poor things), after realizing that they HAVE bamboo on their property! I must explore! I slip next door to speak with my neighbor, Dave, and there he is, working on a new fence, bless his heart.

(Oh, my, those roses creeping into everything! I would think that would count, wouldn’t you?)

“Dave,” I say, “I notice you have bamboo in your yard.”

“In the yard?” he says. “That’s not the yard,” his North Carolina roots informing his declaration. “That’s the creek! It’s just there to help prevent erosion along the creek.” (There is a good-sized creek running on the far side of their property.) Okey dokey. Let’s explore the bamboo along the creek. “It hasn’t gone anywhere in 35 years!” Dave declares. Ah. Then that would make it a clumping bamboo! Hallelujah. I suggest to my friend that the best way to learn about a plant is to work with it. This makes sense to him and I can see he is amenable. I come back with pruning sheers and gloves and work on the bamboo for about two hours, simply using my intuition to guide me. Dave kindly offers a tarp to catch everything I’m cutting down, and another larger pruning tool. I work carefully, as at the base of the bamboo is a very old entangled blackberry bush, wouldn’t you know it? And I have to walk out on an old bridge that spans the creek to reach some of the old dead branches of each.

Eventually I surrender, putting down all tools, and taking off my gloves and begin digging in with my fingernails to peel back the dried outer shell of the stalks (called culms)–to reveal the most beautiful pale green bodies underneath! Yay! Strikin’ it rich on the bamboo front! It reaches at some points about eight feet into the sky, culminating in a lovely variegated plume. Near as I can tell this bamboo that is relegated to “not part of the garden” but simply “erosion control” is actually quite valuable and I fully intend to learn what I can by helping to restore it, and then eventually transplanting some to our common fenceline. It is, in fact, a Godsend, and I’m grateful.

“I see you have a camera with you,” says Dave. “Did you see that rose down at the end of the driveway? You might want to take a look.” (See? They are everywhere, whispering in the ears of elderly men and tiny children, dogs and deer and all manner of beings, capturing our hearts and sights and reminding us of the full beauty of a spring finally come ’round.) “No, Dave, I will have to look into that.”

Love and many blessings,
Kathryn xoxo

Posted on April 29th, 2008 by Kathryn
Filed under: Plants | 24 Comments »