One gardener's observations, discoveries and random thoughts whilst simultaneously worshipping and dallying in a Cape Cod garden. "A garden," said Ralph Waldo Emerson, "is like those pernicious machineries which catch a man's coatskirt or his hand, and draw in his arm, his leg and his whole body to irresistable destruction."

A somewhat bittersweet visit to the garden today, coming as it does with the news that we may be moving from this lovely spot soon.

Destinations and plans are things of the immediate future and not yet known. At least the news comes before any real plans for fall bulb planting were formed.

Or before the planned soil amendment project for the southern beds. Or the eradication of the poison ivy (tho just for spite for the memory of the suffering I may still make some attempt at that.)

Instead, attention will turn to an inventory of available nursery pots, with a thought toward the transplantation of some of my plant friends. Some will remain behind, of course, as some always do. It’s hard to stop a garden once you’ve gotten it going, after all.

As always, it will be interesting to explore and discover a new site, to lay out beds where none exist, or perk up those discovered with new additions.

I will miss this garden, though. It’s been a delightful escape from the world, set so far off from the sounds of traffic, of television, of phones and 60 cycle hum. Such a pleasure to get lost (and lost in my thoughts) in this paradise of birds and beasts and blossoms.

And I know I’ll always think of it fondly, and so will treat it kindly when I go. And I imagine I’ll often wonder what its doing after I’ve left.

No doubt nature will take a hand in things and the field will grow up as it did before we arrived. But the imprint of our time here, of bulbs planted and plants divided and spread around. Some of that will be here to mark that I was, even if no one remembers the Who or the When.

I guess that’s enough to make me smile.


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