Before I started gardening, I thought I was fulfilled.
However, my Experiments with Plants directly and indirectly filled voids that I hadn't even recognised, lifting my happiness to a higher level.
This is a blog about a garden near London, England, and how it is changing my approach to life.
Tuesday, 7 May 2013
Forgetmenots (07 MAY 2013)
This post was supposed to be about daffodils, but sometimes you just have to go with the flow ...
It all started when I was planting a lacecap hydrangea cutting.
It was pruned from the mother plant during winter 2010, produced tiny flowers in summer 2011, nothing in 2012, and here it is today looking quite grown-up.
My mum was suffering from acute kidney failure when the cutting was taken. I suppose that was when I started grieving about the whole situation, as expected it didn't flower last year. People said that the pain would go away in time. They were right, except when I felt it subsiding guilt set in instead. I finally decided to plant it in dappled shade where it wouldn't need watering, where I could still look and remember when I passed by.
However, my garden was trying to tell me something, the dry bed where hardly anything grows and cracks in the paving saved for the dandelions ...
... and my mother's garden too. I don't remember there being a river of blue before, perhaps she pulled them out as weeds, or maybe the rainy spring season provided the optimum conditions for them to burst the banks of the flower beds.
Myosotis are named after their furry leaves, like mouse ears, rather than their little blue petals which symbolise true love in the language of flowers. German legend tells the story of how God forgot to name them till they called out to him.
She used to talk about
planting a vegetable patch at the back of her garden. It was one of the jobs on
the list that I never got round to. I sowed some seeds which I found stored in
a big envelope, many were unlabelled, some have germinated already - just wish I'd done it a year ago when she asked me to. Tiny
canaliculatus and double-headed white daffodils are in flower now, planted near the fence at
one edge in December, to get started; a weed protection mat still covers
the major portion of the plot.
The apple tree stump at the other edge, another family member which was broken and lost, reminded me to water the three precious apple treelets in my own garden born from its seeds.
This isn’t meant to be a sad
post. I'm just trying to say that gardening has a whole new meaning now.
I'm beginning to wonder if it was the reason why I started in the first place.
Forgetmenots may be the name given to little blue flowers, but they're not the only ones with a special message for me.