transformation

 

Oh, yes, I want to use ALL the metaphors! 

the abandonment

the recovery 

the initial huge effort

the long process

the steps in the process, uncountable

the small successes

the bugs and the rabbits

the water and the sun

the volunteers

the daily and weekly rhythms and demands and joys

the never-vanquished weeds and spearmint roots

what we live with (and what it adds) and what we must remove

the rewards (richly fragrant heirloom tomatoes in August, next to the richly fragrant basil)

the changes in the garden

the changes in the gardener

I'll stick with the initial effort, for now.

These two garden beds in St. Louis have clearly been abandoned for at least two seasons. A daughter and soon-to-be daughter-in-law are taking them on...well, the daughter has a vision and no experience except long-ago hot, fruitless weeding duty. The daughter-in-law watches and cheers.

The right side is all mint and lemon balm, plus what the British landlord calls goose grass (cleavers, Velcro weed, sticky ball weed....) and thistles.

This took a good chunk of a day. Mine, not the daughter's.

That took most of another day. A sunny, quiet, robin-friended other day. 

A couple days of effort and abundant peace.

It doesn't show the side jobs of goose grass removal all around the beds and through the flowers behind them. Or the trimming of Russian sage and roses and and California blackberry, or the discovery of a bulgaricum flower from the Accursed Mountains.

I know that under that beautiful soil is a whole layer, still, of spearmint and lemon balm roots. They will show their faces again very soon. And that's okay.

Already the daughter thinks she might love gardening.

And in another year or two, it will be beautiful and fruitful and clean all the way down to the base layers and their worms. In the meantime we may possibly enjoy some rhubarb. And chives.