true dirt

I read this in the paper today, “We’re all so conditioned to expecting things right when we want them, and gardening is a very different approach to life”.
Well, it can be, sometimes. I see many people installing what could be called “instant” gardens with the help of often talented and inventive landscape professionals. But if you define gardening as a process and not just a result those garden owners are not really gardeners in the true sense. On the other hand, I am beginning to think I am not the gardener of my garden either. Far from instantaneous, my garden has an evolutionary history on a par with geologic time. Furthermore, it now appears to have happened mostly by accident. At least, not by this gardener’s intent. Whatever I intended has been reinterpreted by dirt, and weather, and the non-human denizens of this hill I have planted upon.
In any case, this constantly morphing botanical kaleidoscope (Greek for beautiful shape) I call my garden presents me occasionally with catch-your-breath moments of revelation. Yesterday was one. It was just the glimpse of late afternoon sun, slanting through the red oak tree, to light the lilies…. so I grabbed my trusty digital camera and ran downstairs to try an capture the illusive nature of a garden’s midsummer moment.
And for a very unusual and interesting read on some philosophically inclined bulb-hunters, check out this article by a Genia Bellafante in the NYTimes.