The Two Gardens

The sun is out. For Seattle, that says a lot! The birds are busy at the feeders, the water is flowing in the fountains, the native geraniums are glowing purple in the dappled light, and overhead, my Acer palmatum 'Ukigumo' floats like a white cloud (aptly named "floating cloud maple"). Beyond, the myriad greens that make up my little forest world provide a living background tapestry. This is my view from my home office, and I am behind the glass looking out. I so want to be on the other side, but duty calls. Today I must work.


Back yard view from my office



Acer palmatum 'Ukigumo' (floating cloud)

What is it about a garden that calls to our very souls to come? I believe it's in our heart to need a garden. God himself planted the very first garden as He poured out his love in the act of creation. He placed the first man there. He gave His first man food, the company of animals, and a mate. It was all there in Eden -- beauty, love, nourishment, contentment, peace... God Himself. It all started in Eden.

"And the Lord God planted a garden toward the east, in Eden, and there He placed the man whom He had formed. And out of the ground the Lord God caused to grow every tree that is pleasing to the sight and good for food..."Genesis 2:8-9a

Fast-forward thousands of years. That first garden is now just a lost memory. This is another garden. Love, peace, contentment are gone. A Man is on His knees praying for a world in torment, a world bound by hate and ugliness, a world groaning for redemption. The ugliness that invaded Eden will end here, in Gethsemane, with this God-Man.

The two pivotal events in world history took place in gardens, two supreme acts of love. I believe it's in our human DNA to re-create Eden in our own way. It's our natural habitat, and there's music there that only the soul can hear.

Work can wait. I'm going outside to listen!

Gratitude

Stillness. The air is heavy, warm. Nothing moves, as though in breathless anticipation, waiting...

The weather is definitely confused. Last night the weather report said today's weather will be coming from the east to the west, over the mountains. That is so backward! We had three days of continual rumbling thunder, never experienced here before. It's July and I've heard the foghorns three or four mornings in a row. I think the jetstream must be lost.

Some of my virtual friends in the Midwest and east coast are going out of their minds from the extended drought. Today's reports: rain clouds but no rain; 5 plants going to the morgue; taking vacation time to water the gardens. One Kansas dweller is using a bottle cap as a rain gauge. 

The earth is brooding.

As a native Washingtonian, I've always hated the rain, the gray, the drizzle, the cold. I hate bundling up in sweaters and boots. I fantasize about moving to Hawaii. I dream of lying face down in turquoise blue water with my snorkel tube. This year, I've never been more grateful for the cool days, the lush green, even the smell of the fog.

It is so easy to forget about gratitude. I think all humans must be pessimists at heart. All the things that are "wrong" or uncomfortable can mask the bounty of blessings given every day... waking up to "the peace that passes all understanding"... the health and strength to be able to enjoy the day... the love of family and friends... the beauty of our creation... the gift of music.

I'm putting on an attitude of gratefulness. I'm amazed how it changes everything! Instead of seeing the gray sky, I feel the blessing of the cool moist air. Instead of striving, I can take pleasure from the simple things. When we fill our time and thoughts with meditating on God's blessings, there's no time left for negativity or depression, what I like to call stinkin' thinkin'.

Finally, brethren, whatever is true, whatever is honorable, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good repute, if there is any excellence and if anything worthy of praise, let your mind dwell on these things. Philippians 4:8

Beauty and the Beast

It was the wrestling match of the month! I hope nobody was watching.

My intention was to buy some plant tags. One quick stop and then home. But it was a nice day, and the stroll through the plants would be so pleasant! I never know what I'll find there, but the lure is persistent. The garden sings such an ethereal song, and even at the nursery the song fragments find me if I take the time to listen.

I almost missed these little ones. A row of pines in little black pots, back in the corner. Pinus parviflora 'Cleary'... Pinus parviflora 'Ara kawa'. I could fill my heart with pines. Soft, inviting, beautiful, fragrant, tough. Into the cart they went.

Halfway down the walkway I turn back. If I wait, I can buy at a discount. I already have some potting to do. With resolve I return them to their places and walk away. But no, one is somewhat rare, and they might be gone in two days... Their arms reach for me like jubilant playful children.

Now they are safely home with me. The singing and laughter won me over. Cleary will be the first to be planted. I have the perfect pot for his glowing teal color.

Something isn't right. He comes easily out of his small plastic pot to reveal a troubled core. He is beautiful on the outside, severely dysfunctional below the surface. He's been in the pot for so long that the roots have grown around and created a deadly noose. The resinous pine sap has glued the rootball into a solid mass, sealing his doom.

Time to run once again to my mysterious benefactors at Conifer U. They assimilate and guard the collective confer knowledge of hundreds of years and thousands of brilliant minds. If Cleary can be saved, they will know how to do it.

Patiently they offer advice based on their years of experience and plant knowledge. He has one chance to live. I will need to soak the roots, break loose the glue, spread the roots apart and put him into the perfect dirt. I become the surgeon.



Soaking the rootball

 

Loosening the roots

 

A new chance at life



Now it is up to him and the life inside him. I've done all I can. He has been released from this choking prison. As I ponder the wonder of life and enjoy the rush of gratitude for my forum friends, my Creator drops a picture into my mind. This intractible rootball is so like the hardness inside some people. On the outside they seem beautiful, but inside their life is being slowly choked away. It can be hardness toward God, bitterness or unforgiveness toward others, selfishness, or in a few cases, just plain evil hearts. But all these people have one thing in common. The fullness of life that God planned for them will never be able to escape the choking death and bondage ahead unless the Master Gardener sends help. I'm so glad He can look into the hidden places of our heart and see our need!

Go, Cleary! You can make it! I'm cheering for you and wishing you fullness of life!

Lonely Spirit

In the hustle and bustle of running through life, something drew my eye. A tree by the side of the road, tall and stately, called to me to pause. A lone conifer, slim, artistic, and alone, and singing... singing some ancient song. I stopped. Something about it took my breath away. I found myself wishing I could get out the backhoe and bring it home to my garden. It so deserved to be in a place of honor and not alone and ignored.

For a few years now I've adored this beauty every time I drive by. These days it's looking a little tired, a little sad. I feel like I need to get to know it better, so I run to my mysterious collection of experts on the conifer forum with a picture. Sure enough, the answer comes quickly... Abies lasiocarpa, better known as sub-alpine fir. And it is slowly dying. It needs altitude and cool mountain air to thrive. It needs a mountain view and the companionsip of wild things. Here, it is out of its element, doing its best to shine in unnatural circumstances.

This tree's story pierces my heart, and now I know why. It is my mother's story. Born high in the beautiful Selkirk mountains to homesteading parents, she was yanked out of the home she loved and sent to boarding school miles away at the tender age of five. Her heart stayed behind, in the mountains, like this tree. She grew, married and had children, made the best of her life, but always longed for home. The "furry mountains", as she called them, were her natural habitat.

My dear mother is gone now, but we've taken her home... home to the cabin in the woods where she was born, to the house they built on the side of the mountain, to the millpond below the house, to the high mountain fire lookout, to the artesian spring gushing out of the side of the mountain.

My tree will never go home. It will die someday, perhaps soon, breathing a last gasp of car fumes rather than cool mountain air. Now I can hear its song... 
Schelomo by Bloch. Listen!

Stranger in the Night

I'm sitting in the dark staring out the window, hoping he'll return a second time. I can't recall such a surprising visit in all my years of enticing wildlife into my garden. I've been thinking about him, trying to wrap my mind around how this could have happened, and whether my assumptions are correct or wildly askew.

I think it was the visit to Cedar Rapids that started my seductions. Our daughter and husband lived there for a time, and we had motorcycled from Seattle to Death Valley to Flagstaff to Iowa on a huge Route 66 loop to pay them a visit. Outside her window, an array of breathtaking feathered friends made continual visits to her feeders. Cardinals, grosbeaks, and others dressed in reds, golds, blues, yellows. It was quite magical, and I was hooked. Now I have graduated to my own feeders and get rewarded with flickers, downys, chickadees, nuthatches, finches, Stellar's jays, and even the occasional pileated woodpecker. A few fountains later, and we've added warblers to our list of visitors.

A pileated woodpecker enjoys his Almond Munch suet

I can't remember how the patio adventures first began. Some bedraggled feral cat must have shown up hoping for a meal. Who can deny a hungry cat? Out went the dish of cat food, and it's been there ever since, probably 10 years or more. It's now the favorite 'watering hole" for families of raccoons, opossums, stray cats. It was inevitable that some of the cats should choose to stay and now call our garden home. One pregnant female liked it so well that she brought her six babies home to live. That's a story I'll save for another time.

Mustachio, one of the ferals

My heart goes out to the constant parade of abandoned cats that find this little bit of manna in their wilderness. It really riles me how people can just throw away their animals to the elements. But we have been the lucky recipients of three of the world's best cats who found their way to our dish and into our hearts... Squeaks, Buster, Callie.

Buster under an Acer

Last night's visiter was new to the patio. Small, dark in color, furry. At first we thought he was a baby opossum. But on closer inspection, this animal had no tail, and a very blunt snout. Perhaps a mole? No, no digging nose and claws, and this visitor could run backward. This animal was like nothing we had seen at the dish before. He seemed to have no fear of humans. My husband labeled him "a huge twinkie with feet"! Squeaks was very curious as well, and too soon, before an identification could be made, the visitor made his exit.

It wasn't until the next day that I realized where I had seen this animal before. After consulting with Google, I knew. This was a guinea pig, probably lost, terrified. I grieve that I didn't try for a rescue. Someone, somewhere, is out there looking for the little guy.
Sometimes we humans get lost. It's part of our nature to stray. And we can end up alone, bewildered, confused, lonely.

Jesus told this story... my story...

If you had a hundred sheep and one of them strayed away and was lost in the wilderness, wouldn't you leave the ninety-nine others and go search for the lost one until you found him? And then you would joyfully carry him home on your shoulders. When you arrived you would call together your friiends and neighbors to rejoice with you because your lost sheep was found. In the same way, Heaven will rejoice over one lost sinner who returns to God than over ninety-nine others who haven't strayed away. Luke 15:3-7 LB

I remember how that felt! I'm glad my Owner rescued me, and He always knows where I am!

The Fairies are Coming!

The fairies are coming to town in July! The last time they were here was in 1997, so it is an event much to be anticipated. Iolanthe, one of the fairies, was punished for falling in love with a mortal, and she now lives in a swamp, surrounded by frogs. Real? No. It's theatre!

Gilbert & Sullivan wrote the musical "Iolanthe" as one of their 13 collaborations. The Seattle Gilbert & Sullivan Society performs one of these every summer, and this year is Iolanthe's turn. It is a wonderful show with beautiful music and a lot of laughs, and it will be the first time since 1974 that I haven't been in the orchestra pit at least for part of the 3-week run. The last time I played "Iolanthe", my Maestro husband conducted, and even the onstage fountain and the frogs responded to his commanding baton!

In this musical comedy, Iolanthe the Fairy is living under the bridge to be close to her son, who is half fairy and half mortal. It's only fitting that in this election year he should go to Parliament as a Liberal Conservative! Isn't that just typical of today's political mess?

I take solace from the confusion of politics in the garden. In honor of Iolanthe I have created the Iolanthe garden. It's a nice shady little place, just the right size for fairies. If you look very carefully, you can see two of them in the left picture and one in the right picture. They are hard to find, as fairies often are!

The plants are hostas, heucheras, brunneras, and maidenhair ferns, and in the right picture at the end of the garden, there is an Acer palmatum 'Waterfall', which seems to me to be the perfect fairy weeping willow! 

Can't find the fairies? Here's how they look up close...

Oh, yes, and here are the froggies!

Taylor's Distress

I'm not sure what caused me to find it. Perhaps Taylor was just making his usual music and I wanted to be close. This is the season when he becomes compelling, alluring, snazzy and dressed fit to kill. You can't walk by Taylor and not be pulled in his direction.



Taylor's full name is Pinus contortus 'Taylor's Sunburst', and the name fits, especially in spring. He is a stately and solid dwarf Lodgepole pine all year long. His song is very much like Bach's Third Brandenburg Concerto. But in spring he earns his royal title "Sunburst" as the tip of every branch bursts forth in sun-kissed yellow, light reaching to light. He even adorns himself with rubies. Stunning!



On this day, however, all was not well. Perhaps I heard the discord in the song, or saw something not quite right in his interior. Ugly pinkish-gray masses, like some terrifying alien beings, had attached themselves to his trunk. Cautiously, I touched them and found them soft but not sticky, like some weird infection encased in a skin.

There is a conifer discussion forum on the web populated by some quite mysterious beings with names like coniferjoy, sprucebud, tsugajunkie, monkeytreeboy. I'm not sure they're human. More like two-legged databases. They call themselves Coneheads (conifers=cones) and they all LOVE conifers. I know they will have some information for me, so I post my S.O.S. message with the picture. Sure enough, within hours I have my diagnosis. Sequoia Moth! This devil lays the egg, and the larva bores in until the tree oozes pitch, which essentially seals him inside where he can eat to his heart's content. There is no medicine for this, no chemical treatment. The only option is to remove the glob and find the offender. I see at least three of these patches, and I'm glad they are within my reach. Nasty! I actually found one of the grubs, and the assassination felt good!

Taylor will survive. But he is forever weakened and disfigured. A strong wind or heavy snowload could cause him to break. My heart is heavy as I think of his helplessness. No matter how strong and stately he was, he had no resources to fight this insidious enemy.

As humans we fight these battles as well. Cancers and other diseases can strike us when we least expect them. One of my loved ones just had surgery for a nasty sarcoma on his thigh and I imagine it looked a lot like this. And in the unseen world of our spirit, the enemy comes at us with vicious and nasty weapons, with the intent of chewing away at our faith until we topple and can be devoured. Sometimes the only help for us is the Heavenly putty knife in the hands of the Great Physician. I love knowing He hovers over us, watching us, protecting us, de-bugging us! He is faithful!