There is something to be said
for gardens neat and tidy,
pruned rows of charming box,
lilies, straight and proper,
tiers of trimmed trees,
all standing at attention-
a symmetry of geometry.
But, for me, I’ll take a garden rampant with green-
ferns astilbe mums roses lilies dianthus hollyhocks coreopsis violets
with a few bindweed and clover and poison ivy too-
moneywort overtaking the gravel path,
cheek by jowl to the lemon thyme,
columbine gone to seed,
and foxglove hiding behind the iris blades,
hostas shading the damn rabbits,
birds alight everywhere,
filling the air with color and song.
This is my garden, my delight,
my beautiful chaotic Eden.
A beautiful afternoon is always more beautiful in an April garden. The columbines are putting on a colorful display in such wonderful combinations. A blue is blooming, lots of mauve and lavender, a few frilly white blooms and many double blossoms again this year. Our favorite is a small salmon and yellow bloom on a tall slender plant- a wild columbine from seeds we harvested on a walk a few years ago.
My large hosta, for some reason, (probably chipmunks!) has not returned. I dug where the roots should be and no sign at all. That may be one purchase I will make this year – a few hostas to fill in the center of the garden.
Our baby dogwoods are growing with abandon – and we had 18 blooms across the three largest trees this year! Yea! We will move a few of the trees out into the yard this fall. And the two redbuds will be moved to flank the western edge of the garden.
Big fat bumblebees were very busy working across the garden and making their acquaintance with each bloom.
This weekend, we will head to the garden center for lots of flowers and plants to fill the pots for the patio. Then all that is left to do is enjoy the beauty. And water and fertilize and deadhead and weed and weed and weed.
Green is the color of April-
pale green of tender shoots,
deeper shade across the heart shaped leaves,
sprinkled with petals of all flowers
on the path of the dancing honey bee.
The path folds into itself,
an origami of leaf mold and gravel.
Its edges drift into stiff hedges of
deep dried grass,
shifting ever so slightly in the spring breeze-
fluttering like paper,
that fold their wings
and unfurl to fly.
Someone, once, folded a thousand cranes,
a symbol of peace or redemption or grace,
I forget which.
These cranes took flight
and flew with ibis and stork,
heron and egret,
until the fragile paper wings drifted slowly,
into the flame,
All that was left
was an origami of ash,
for me to shovel into the garden
and work into the soil
to feed the roots
and nourish our souls,
with peace or redemption