While City Boy, Geek Boy and Darling were out this afternoon, I read my email. Wandered aimlessly about. Took a short nap. Checked the email again. Then I decided to get my camera out and take some pictures. Which I figure will bore you to tears, because what’s left to see here? I only recently shot the view from both the front and the back door and you’ve probably seen more pig and chicken videos than a blog reader should be subjected to. The only thing of remote interest is the Secret Garden.
I started the Secret Garden the first summer we were here. It’s a strip of land out near the road in front of the house; it’s 25 feet deep and 80 feet long. I soon realized that this was an enormous project, especially when I was also trying to do the front of the house and was on a limited budget. But I gave it my best shot, carving out a path, planting a few shrubs for structure, and welcoming a few starts from friends. Before long, it was at least half full. And then it was winter.
And at the end of winter, Darling was a bit older. She was two. She was toddling. She was toddling and two and teetering through my garden trying to eat things. And when she wasn’t trying to eat them, she was dead heading them when they weren’t quite dead. This made gardening difficult, and I figured, “Hey, the garden’ll still be here in a couple years when Darling outgrows this stage.”
But after a couple of years, I got busy with other things, and the garden began to fill up with things that I’d never planted. Ferns and salmon berries began appearing between wild bleeding hearts and foxglove. The herbs were out of control. Alder trees were taking over. The roses decided they loved it up there and before long it was looking like that scene out of Sleeping Beauty where the prince is fighting his way towards the castle. Except…there was no castle here.
I’m sure there’s a castle and a sleeping princess in here somewhere!
City Boy doesn’t like my garden. He’d like to mow it all down.
“What is all that stuff?” he asked one day, clearly in the mood to do some weed whacking.
“It’s my garden,” I replied. “Don’t touch it!”
“It doesn’t look like a garden,” he said with a snort.
“Shhhh…it’s a secret garden,” I whispered.
City Boy rolled his eyes. “Well, it’s a really good secret!”
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