Labor of love

Now that I am feeling strangely settled in our new life here, I have become a bit restless. Restless not in a bad way though. Just restless to move and to create. Lately that desire to create is being fulfilled by work in the garden. We have inherited a magnificent garden to love and nurture and care for. Although we did see the garden last summer, we really had no idea what joy and hard work we were in for. The beautiful mature garden cultivated over the last four decades by two seasoned gardeners has been left in the naive hands of two city slickers from Brooklyn with no gardening experience to speak of. What we lack in knowledge though, we make up for in enthusiasm and a sense of responsibility in maintaing this amazing garden. We are learning so much everyday.

Each morning I walk around the garden systematically to see what has happened over the last 24 hours. I am continually surprised by the difference a day makes. Plants grow, new buds form, and new shoots poke their heads out of the soil everyday. I am learning to differentiate between weeds and flower shoots.

We spent hours and hours raking out all the dead leaves from the ground cover and the flower beds, cutting back all the old growth from last year, pruning, and weeding. The bare partially frozen ground looked barren and uninviting. I never imagined all the activity taking place just under the ground. Now, just a few weeks later the garden is alive- with flowers, bees, earthworms, and children.

So far the brave snowdrops and crocuses have come and gone, the proud daffodils and hyacinths are just past their prime. The forsythia and azaleas and still blooming, and the dogwood seems ready to burst into bloom any day. The vibernum is working hard on new blossoms and the peonies get taller every day.



Maintaining a garden requires  hard work and dedication. I don't yet have a green thumb, but do have dry chapped hands caked with mud and dirt under my fingernails and a real feeling of accomplishment.