Don't tell me about the neglected weeding and rampant failures and minor frustrations, tell me what delights you. Jane was quick with her answer (the surprises of her quirky, meandering, wild, spilling garden). Blog commenters also told me what they love in their gardens.
Now it's my turn. What do I really like about my garden? Its constant transformation.
|in 2011 . . . and in 2004|
There is an incredible feeling of time and change in the half acre that started out as a pasture, became a building construction site, and has been and is still transforming into a garden. I never look at it without saying "wow, this used to be empty / flat / a twig / a pile of rubble. Look at it now. Look again in three years. Wow."
|A simple row of bottlebrush buckeyes transforms itself in just a few years|
Time. Change. Transformation. It wasn't simply the evolution of a scene over time as natural things happened. It was my own creation that abruptly changed the look and feel of this plot of land. Nature helped, and nature conspired with me, and thwarted me when she felt like it too.
|still working on this garden|
I plant the ittiest bittiest saplings. I have planted over 100 trees-to-be, many of them no more than 10 inches tall. They are tiny, they struggle, they look pathetic, and then one day they are shady and leafy and they look like trees. Small trees, but real trees.
|plantings on a low berm have evolved|
And then there is the seasonal transformation as dead-wet-cold New England spring gives way to summer. Every time I go out in the garden on a dewy summer morning, I am struck by how it didn't look like this last evening when I went into the house and went to bed. It didn't even hint it was going to look like this last month. It threatened to never look like this, ever, last winter.
|seasons of change|
And when fall comes, the changes are heart stopping and alarming as colors explode. Winter brings its own disorienting transformation, and it never ceases to amaze me: it didn't look like this before. Look at it now. Look again in a few years.
|Autumn alters everything|
My too sunny lot will be too shady soon, and I will say: how did that happen? It used to be empty / flat / a twig / a pile of rubble. It used to be unbearably sunny. It changed.
The sense of transformation in my garden is what I love about it, and it is what I see every time I open the door or look out the window. From barren plot to garden, from sunny day to dewy morning, from twig to tree. From season to season and back again, never the same.
|a dewy transformation|
It all changes, and it all changes all the time.