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Gardeners dedicate themselves to their work in different ways. For some, this is a short-lived hobby enthusiastically pursued each spring, but perhaps neglected or abandoned as the season progresses. For others, gardening is a serious hobby that defines their daily life and vacation planning. But the older I get, the more I realize that this season I'm in the happy middle.
I was once a serious, passionate gardener—spent my free time figuring out where to plant what, and spent my weekends laying truckloads of mulch to beautify my landscape. I was very attached to my garden and spent most of my free time digging, planting, pruning and mulching. However, I must admit that my garden-oriented ship has sailed away. Maybe later he will find a home again, but at this point in my life I am enjoying my messy yard and enjoying the view.
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If I had to quantify, I would name two reasons for the loss of attention. First, I spend my days in the garden. So when you get home from work, it's not really a holiday to do laundry and do it all over again. Of course, I still love it, but sometimes I just want to relax and have dinner, not weed the asparagus.
My second reason may be what has kept me from gardening this spring. Having received a small drop trailer, my husband and I spend all our free time traveling and sightseeing. I just don't go home as often as I used to. It's like my garden has been replaced with a 1,000-pound bed on wheels.
But all reasons aside, lately I've been enjoying my unconscious decision to let my garden get a little disgusting. It can be a little overwhelming when I take the time to go over everything that needs to be done, but once you prioritize what needs the most attention, it quickly disappears.
The last weekend at home was filled with gardening and planting, which made it clear how distracted I was. The path from our driveway to the main gate seemed narrower than usual, and it wasn't an illusion. Two years of neglect or rejection of the callicanthus heads led to them hitting the road. And although this magnificent dense bush is as lush and beautiful as before, I had to fight with it.
As the weeds fluttered around the fence, I stopped to enter Bluebird's house at the other end of the lot. I could not free it from last year's tenants and wondered if there was any activity there. Well, I found that it definitely has action, just not in the form of furry friends.
Through the round door of the enclosure, not one, but two young black snakes were looking at me. But instead of mourning the fate of the blackbirds, I was happy that another black snake appeared in my garden, which I had not seen for many years. But it was a funny moment in the garden, because it showed how nonchalant I've been lately.
It's still late, but I managed to plant a summer garden - however, half as much. I live in Winston-Salem and am trying to plant tomatoes, peppers, cucumbers and all those wonderful warm weather vegetables by the third week of April. But cool spring weather, combined with my temporary camping mood, delayed planting until mid-May.
So instead of 20 tomatoes, I chose 12 tomatoes. Instead of whole yellow zucchini and courgettes, I just planted two bunches. This way I can get my fair share of products without mixing food packages with everyone around. In addition, processing and canning efforts are saved when everything begins to ripen at the same time.
Although my absence and busyness in my spare time led to an untidy garden, I am sure that many pleasant surprises awaited me. I saw the first flowers of Cornus kousa, which I planted many years ago. Planted in a wild forest, every spring I looked for buds and waited for fruitful development. Of course, this spring I selfishly ignored it and accidentally saw its creamy white flowers while harvesting ore. I felt like a proud parent.
Compared to the notion that a watched pot will never boil, I learned that walking on a compost heap will never collapse. After neglecting it since last fall, my pile of woody compost is finally starting to decompose and turn into good, nutrient-rich loose soil. I got into this last week and can't wait to spread it out in a nearby perennial bed.
I noticed strong growth on plants that I was sure were covered in dust. The epimedium tripled in size, giving rise to dozens of dancing yellow flowers. The geyhers and Asiatic lilies, planted in the middle of the table of the caring mole, came to life and surprised me with their stamina and vitality.
So this spring, I learned some important lessons from living away from my garden. I don't care what happens to my garden when I'm gone. Of course, the wisteria will climb over the fence, and the Japanese beetles will eat the vines, but they will all be waiting for me when I get home.
The garden grows in stages and at its own pace is a mantra I have adopted recently. Up to this point in my life, I have watched my garden go through many stages: growing, planting, and fertilizing. My garden looks a lot like a teenager right now - it can definitely stay indoors, but sometimes it's a little messy, a little messy. I agree with it. I trust him and I am sure that in my absence he will not get out of control.
Amy Dixon works as a gardener's assistant at Wake Forest University's Reynolds Garden. Gardening questions or story ideas can be sent to her at www. facebook.com/WSJAmyDixon or news@wsjournal.com with "gardening" in the subject line.
