I have often wondered how long a garden lasts
When there is no one there to tend it?
I’ve come close to getting my answer this spring.
I’ve spent very little time in my garden
And…well…it’s a mess.
Oh, not to the casual observer
But to me
Who knows the bones and body of this place
It’s a mess.
The larkspur is well past its prime.
And should be long gone.
In this year where everything is about 2 weeks late
Cockscomb is all ready starting to bud and bloom
Crab grass and clover think they’ve died and gone to heaven
Because I’ve let them grow
There’s a forest of baby trees.
Mimosa, Elm, Maple and Pecan
Planted by well meaning squirrels last winter.
And so you lovers of mulch
Are likely wagging your “I told you so” finger at me.
Remembering the tough stance I took on the stuff last week.
But the truth is for me
Well, I’m standing my ground
Even at this stage of disarray!
I rely on a variety of self seeding annuals to give my garden
That lush cottage feel.
We’ve talked about them before
Poppies, Larkspur, Hollyhocks
And the 3 C’s Cleome, Cosmos and Cockscomb.
Without them I would find myself needing a lot more perennials.
Now I love them all
But to have so much renew itself each year
Is a strong statement of life.
If I covered my garden with inches of wood chips.
Few of these seeds would work their way into the soil
And grow and bloom.
So what do I do to prevent those much maligned weeds.
I don’t use a pre-emergent
And I don’t mulch.
I accept them as part of this creation
I don’t plant them
But they just keep coming
So there must be some reason for them.
And I think I’ve finally figured it out.
They are there to slow me down.
To make me sit in my garden
And pull weeds.
You really can’t see the details
And touch the earth
Unless you sit
Disturbing the soil along the way
Just long enough to experience
The life within.