The garden, in its magical wonder, constantly and continuously changes. So quickly the hours flow into days, then weeks, and months. Seasons pass. From the first cheery crocus spangling the dreary February landscape to the cherished chrysanthemums hailing a brilliant autumn, a succession of flowers take center stage to enchant, then fade, their time spent. If I've planned correctly, new blooms will appear in their place, and I won't have gaps. A short while ago, the roses were magnificent, and I reveled in their silken blossoms, white and peachy-pink petals fluttering to the ground like snowflakes in the breeze. Now that first long-awaited flush is past and only a few plants are left in bloom. The roses will revive for another riotous color fest, but the despised Japanese beetles are arriving and will plague the plants and me for weeks to come. Any gardener not suffering this scourge should rejoice daily.
During the dratted beetle season, I look to the lilies for glory, and they do not disappoint. The oriental lilies scent the garden with sweet perfume and tree lilies stretch to amazing heights. I'm lily mad and forever planting new bulbs. They're rather like Easter eggs, in that I hide them and await discovery, particularly as I often forget what kind I planted and where they were tucked. Plus, one of the online bulb companies sent me potluck instead of what I thought I'd ordered. Adds to the surprise, I suppose. I really must pay more attention to who sent what if I want to complain, but I know I didn't order knee-high yellow lilies. Not that they aren't pretty, but not what I intended. A whole lot like life.
I do what I usually do, forge ahead and try again.
I did nothing but comfort my plants, till now their small green cheeks are covered with smiles. ~Emily Dickinson, 1865
Why try to explain miracles to your kids when you can just have them plant a garden. ~Robert Brault, rbrault.blogspot.com