I’ve been remiss in sending out my winter greetings to you and I apologize for that. This late fall and early winter has been a whirlwind for me personally with selling our old place in Michigan, health issues with the family, and on and on….
Interesting when the season closes, all of a sudden focus changes from gardening to life. This is only an observation as I grow older and gain more perspective. Life, in general, has been wonderful to me and my loved ones, and yet, the seasons seem to go faster and faster on my short life journey. A humbling thought that life seems to take so much work and we take so little time to enjoy all it has to offer.
On a recent 59 degree Saturday, Paul, the pups, and I stomped out to the west borders to cut down the glory of our autumn garden superstars. The stiff stems of the prairie-rooted asters withstood the rigors of the heavy wet snows of December. Precious annuals, the likes of Plectranthus and Strobelanthus, were mush in my hands.
Today the gleaming tower of Miscanthus floridulus is a show stopper in the morning sun, contrasting the old brick column of the motor court.
A garden stroll last week revealed a very informative and honest observation from our friend Robert visiting from Milwaukee: “I love that the garden is still so interesting, even in winter. Not many gardens make me want to walk through them in the winter but then, you guys know what you are doing!” We work diligently to provide year round interest in our garden designs with the configuration and the collection of plants that reside in it. Over the last six years, it has been a gargantuan effort creating and maintaining this garden. For the first time since we relocated here, I felt that the garden is here now and we get to watch it grow instead of making it grow.
I have said it before and I will say it again: For all of us enchanted with gardens, winter is a time to reflect on where the garden has been, and a time for dreaming of where we can take it next season.
May you all have a dormant winter season full of light, sparkle, and a few warm days to prune those special woodies.
And now that spring is nearly upon us, we will not cry that winter is over, but will smile that it happened.