But the gardens...oh, the gardens! My front bed, my "gift garden", populated for twelve years by plants given to me by friends. My American White Mulberry, planted for me by the birds, grown from a wee stick to a ragged behemoth half the size of my house. My Mexican Orchid Tree, given to me by a botany professor at the University of Texas ten years ago, which I can replace exactly nowhere. The corner in the backyard, in Raven's favorite spot, where I buried his personal effects and planted his favorite flowers [to dig up and sleep on top of]. All gone...not yet, but I know it will be. I'm sure once the new owners find out what a pain in the ass it is to maintain the Mulberry and the Mexican Orchid, they'll both be ripped down without a second thought.
I didn't even manage to save any of my bedding plants - I'd planned to devote an afternoon to bagging up an armload of things to take with me to plant at the new place - the black irises, the Amaryllises that my friend Lorrie gave me, the pink Australian indigo that I planted practically the first year I moved in and which once comprised about half of that front bed. The black Clematis 'Romantika' that I grew in a pot since I was 23 years old, and transplanted to the backyard in 2004 when I moved into the house.
It wasn't like the move happened out of nowhere; but it did happen fast, only two months between decision, and move, sale. Before I moved 100% of my attention had to be on packing, and fixing up the house to put on the market. And because I moved into a fixer-upper, 100% of my time since October 1st (the date I moved in) has gone to fixing up that house, and trying to arrange furniture and get things put away around an ever-changing schedule and constant parade of repair-people and contractors.
All of that being said...
Things are settling down a bit. There's still a LOT to do at the new place (if you're interested, you can read about that here at my other blog). But things are calm enough now that I'm starting to turn my eye toward the new landscape...or rather, toward the inviting and promising lack thereof. The new place, a rental, comes with carte blanche from the owner (a friend of mine) as far as the interior and the landscaping are concerned. It's on an enormous corner lot filled with mature oaks and elms, as well as a pear of some kind, and a Crepe Myrtle that, sadly, isn't getting enough light to thrive, sandwiched between two massive oaks, and will likely have to come down before it hurts somebody. The back yard is small, but there's space enough for a small vegetable and herb garden, and it's got a huge patio that's just begging for a container collection. So, we'll see.I was going to end this post with pictures of my beloved trees, which I'll never see again. I've been missing them terribly, but in the past few days I feel like I'm getting over that loss. But I grabbed a neat snapshot in one of the oaks the other day, and so instead, I leave you with this:
 |
| HOPE. |
