Change Is The Constant
Posted on | May 15, 2012 | No Comments
“Change is the constant, the signal for rebirth, the egg of the phoenix.”
-Christina Baldwin
We are given no guarantees. We go through life seeking a certainty that doesn’t originate except in our romantic spun illusions. When the curve ball comes, moving us in a direction we did not plan, we are thrown, sometimes deeply, by the unexpected. Death, the end of a marriage, or the loss of a job, call us to task in a way we would rather avoid. Still, we must travel with that curve ball or crumble in its wake. How do we cope?
There is no easy answer. The collapsing of one illusion often spins the emergence of another. Coping is a matter of perspective. Illusions can last a short time, or a long time, but at some point, illusions metamorphous into other possibilities not yet seen or considered. In another vein, as our quote promises, our transformation stems from the ashes of the phoenix in much the same way as the egg brings the promise of birth. Are death and birth the same? I think so.
I love the garden for its beauty. It brings pleasure in a way I cannot explain. Our dog Merlin brings us humor and focus, Sophie soulfulness, Tucker over-exuberance, Rocky a klutzy kind of wonder. Each day these creatures remind us that there are more things to life than our petty worries.
I consider Sheila, my husband Jim’s late wife, and know that we never met in person. She died several years ago on May 15. I consider we must know each other in the shared reality that involves the life I have now. Truthfully, I cannot know Jim without knowing her, and I cannot be myself without considering that part of who I am involves her. I fought this truth this once, until I realized in this truth was my own rebirth. I consider other friends lost over time and realize the same thing. Death is an expression of life changed, not necessarily its end.
So what to do with all this? Forgive this silly Virgo with a predilection, however flawed, for trying to find the profound in the simple. I say walk in the garden and realize it is all around you. The profoundness, that is, of new beginnings. Sheila lives as do all those who have passed. Merlin will tell you so. So will I. It is the magic of rebirth that happens all the time. How perfect the gift.
Finding the Divine
Posted on | May 8, 2012 | No Comments
Who has not found the heaven below
Will fail of it above.
God’s residence is next to mine,
His furniture is love.
- Emily Dickinson
Gazanias!
There is a certain divinity that occurs in the most normal of circumstances; circumstances which are not at first glance perfect, but in which somehow we find our transformation unexpectedly. The outcome is as if we are born for the first time. It can be brief, yet have a lasting impact on how we move through life. I am not asserting that one must follow a certain path in order to find “God”. I don’t prescribe to such limited notions. However, I am suggesting that we have moments of profoundness available to us in our daily lives by seeing in the ordinary the opportunity for holiness.
The garden gives us divinity when we listen and look with an open heart. It is where heaven is possible not just in some prescribed afterlife, but in the moment lived well, right here, right now. It is the daily act of weeding, planting, feeding, watering, taken on as sacred tasks.
Gardening is a magnificent opportunity or a haunting curse, depending on your point of view. Take on the opportunity and it will bless your life. See it as a curse and you will miss the garden’s ultimate gift.
A foxglove takes center stage in the Angel Garden
We may never find the unexpected and magnificent composition if we insist what came before it is flawed. Consider the garden in spring as it explodes in color following its dormancy in winter and you might get my point. Beauty is truly in the eyes of the beholder. Look with new eyes and consider that the thing you thought lost to you was always there right in front of you. Heaven on earth? Absolutely.
Twilight
Posted on | April 10, 2012 | No Comments
An angel finds respite in twilight in Merlin's Garden
There is a certain magic that begins to happen in Merlin’s Garden in spring around 6:30 in the evening. The sun is making its final dusting across the California earth casting unique figures of light and shadow that give the flowers and foliage another form of beauty. Within moments the light dims as the sun sets beyond the sea in the west. A red breasted hummingbird zips back and forth landing on occasion upon the crape myrtle as if it owns it. There is a soft wind caressing the landscape as the light catches hold of the shape of a butterfly floating on the air. I feel at peace.
I do not feel this kind of peace often, but as I watch the garden splendor from the wall to wall family room window, I feel uniquely fortunate to have found a passion that meets so much of my own need for creativity, insight, and wonder. I find the matter of gardening rarely boring. Just when I think I have had enough of pulling weeds and carrying another bag of soil to the top of the stairs, I get the infinite reward of a certain time of day, or year, and all that it brings in the way of offerings. Like the Cezanne Clematis that is hitting its stride or the Aquilegia Blue Butterflies standing with pride against bronze flax.
A landscape contractor described to me recently, “I get to paint with plants.” The statement is a perfect description of the gardener’s opportunity. If we give up on that opportunity, we miss the chance to find the gifts awaiting us in the earth. If we persevere and embrace the opportunity, we see dimensions of ourselves we never thought possible.
Aquilegia Blue Butterflies
Yes, twilight. Not so much the end of a day, but the beginning of a life. A real one at that.
Cezanne Clematis
Spring in Merlin’s Garden
Posted on | April 4, 2012 | No Comments
Spring has arrived in Merlin’s Garden. Take a look.
Merlin Style Gardening
Posted on | March 11, 2012 | 1 Comment
There is no “The End” to be written, neither can you, like an architect, engrave in stone the day the garden was finished; a painter can frame his picture, a composer notate his coda, but a garden is always on the move.- Mirabel Osler
Sometimes the garden is more about the animals than the garden. At least on this homestead. Take Merlin and Tucker. Alpha dogs like no other. Before Merlin, Tucker was my problem child. Now it’s Merlin. Merlin in particular can’t stand it when Tucker gets more attention. If he does, Merlin intercepts in a way only Merlin can, by throwing himself at you.
The dog deck in Merlin’s Garden had actually been designed for Tucker as a way to prevent erosion on the first bank of our terraced yard, which he was slowly causing by his back kick “I am the king” stance usually in full swing when other dogs passed by on the street. I had a carpenter build the deck with a railing along with a raised vegetable bed. It worked pretty well on combating the problem. Until, that is, Merlin came along.
The railing was not high enough for our agile young basset hound who gracefully leaps across it with a wild “no, I am the king” jump in defiance of Tucker and yours truly. If I thought dogs possessed egos like us I could swear he was showing off. He looks like a gazelle actually which for a basset hound is an astonishing contradiction. I was able to deter some of that leaping tendency when I put a picket fence all along that first bank to prevent the boy from leading his other brothers through the area in a chase after his royal highness, or rather, royal pain in the butt. When they couldn’t follow it wasn’t as much fun for Merlin.
The dog who would be king. Merlin and Tucker on the dog deck.
Garden design is perfect only on the first day. Then you realize that one thing you missed in your plan. I didn’t think when I had the dog deck built that I would soon gain a spirited lad who saw it as agility training equipment. Of course, the perfect garden is for folks with no dogs, no weeds, no cats, no chaos. On occasion, you wish you had less of the chaos, but you also realize beauty is nothing without the ability to laugh as well. I call it Merlin style gardening. Ever changing. Always on the move. Certainly worth a good chuckle now and again.
Every Plant Has A Story
Posted on | March 7, 2012 | No Comments
Ed's Tree
When we moved into our home, we met our neighbor Ed soon enough. In his eighties, he was a tall and handsome fellow with dark silver-streaked hair and a moustache, and a life history involving submarines and gardening and a whole host of other adventures through which we travel. My husband, Jim, and Ed became acquainted quite readily — their shared military life a common ground. On occasion they shared a beer in a garage Jim admired for its size twice that of the one he inherited moving here. Never mind the Northwest shop Jim owns that is packed with other auto treasures — a car aficionado remains a car aficionado no matter what part of the continent on which they reside.
Ed kept a beautiful garden, at least by my standards. In fact, I know his garden was featured for its sculptured plants in a time when I was just a little girl. He showed me the newspaper clippings that only a garden lover would envy.
One warm summer day, Ed mentioned to Jim that the orange tree laying nestled beneath a pecan tree needed to be removed. Jim, who hates the idea of any tree, let alone a citrus tree, getting dismantled, contacted me immediately insisting that it was essential we move the tree — Ed’s tree, we soon called it — to our yard. This was August, mind you. The worst time to move a living thing, but save a plant we must. I admit, I am not one to deny my husband.
So, there we are, in August. Our hired gardener came with shovel and a determined spirit and transplated Ed’s tree to our yard. It had to be at least 80 plus degrees, let’s consider 90. We were hot. The poor gardener even hotter. We had the requisite compost and soil in which to surround the roots. Other than that, we found ourselves feeling tremendous guilt as we watched the gardener dig in god-awful clay soil on a terribly hot day.
So, three years later, stands Ed’s tree. A dwarf variety that is thriving despite the conditions in which it was moved. It has combated unrest, leaf minor, and has thrived despite this and other nuances in a new place. We are proud. We have been blessed with at least ten pickings of seedless, mouthwatering citrus this season alone with a promise for more.
Jim is beside himself. Citrus is heaven. Citrus for the picking even more so. We still call the tree Ed’s tree. It is one of Ed’s legacies. He passed away a few years back. I wonder if he realizes what he gave us. Thank you, Ed.
Late Bloomer
Posted on | February 25, 2012 | No Comments
An angel ponders late bloomeritis
Late blooming plants are typically defined as those plants that become more robust as summer flaunts its last hurrah. By a gardener’s definition, a late bloomer is that plant that still thrives when the weather cools and summer fades.
Spring is approaching so it will become pretty clear soon that this post is not so much about the late blooming plant as it is about the late blooming human. Me, that is.
I came late to my life. You may ask: what do you mean? Late, I think, to the knowledge that life is precious and we must not waste it.
I came late to my life and the realization that each moment holds a possibility that I would be mindful to cherish.
Better late than never is the old saying that reminds us that second chances and renewed possibility exists every moment. Imagine learning that in a single moment we can change the course of our lives – change our understanding of who we are and what we are capable of, change the road we took yesterday to a new road today, change our thoughts of our life and those in it. Sometimes life does that for us. We are handed a deck of cards that changes our outlook forever.
Every moment gives us a choice, to be one way or the other and to see life, one way or the other. We are not victims of circumstance. We have the power to view the current circumstance and the next in a way that will either defeat us or define us as victims or victors.
I drove along a country road today with my husband and captured beauty and a day that I will always treasure. I find these moments cherished gifts of companionship and splendid scenery.
It’s not too late to experience this and more. We may be late bloomers in our recognition of the true meaning in life, but we are bloomers nevertheless. In the garden, the same is true. In every season, in every moment, there is a new discovery that reminds us of life’s mystery and equally perfect gift of splendor and magic.
The Wiles of Whimsy
Posted on | February 15, 2012 | No Comments
There is a lot of value in adding humor to a life. We are such serious folk when it comes to living. Not all perhaps, but most I would think. We take things way too seriously. Then comes a day of reckoning where we are reminded how petty our grievances and those things over which we fret. Humor has a way of putting things in perspective.
Whimsy, like humor, is another pursuit I think worthy of consideration. It is lighthearted, invokes a smile and adds sunshine to an otherwise plain, ordinary moment.
In the garden, I like to add a few elements of whimsy and humor because it elicits in the wanderer much needed joy and laughter. Paired with colorful plantings, even better.
Take a moment to stop. Smell a flower. See an occasion to laugh. Healing can be found in the simplest of things. Don’t take yourself too seriously. Somehow life has a way of working out.
Strawberry Fields
Posted on | January 16, 2012 | No Comments
Bareroot Seascape Strawberry waiting for home. These will go in the ground.
Rumor has it that spring is on its way. At least that was what was whispered to me by the hummingbird that sang its song near my ear in Merlin’s Garden. Jim arose on Saturday morning and read that it’s a good time to plant strawberries. He is right naturally, and his pronouncement gave me a perfect excuse to head to the local nursery and purchase several strawberry plants to harvest this summer. In between the on-going winter clean-up, I planted bare root Seascape strawberries, and a small flat of Sequoia strawberries as well.
If you haven’t had a strawberry freshly picked from the garden, you are missing a treat, especially if you can get to them before the birds do. This perennial is a garden must-have. Make sure you have good, well-drained soil, a healthy dose of compost mixed in, and lots of sunlight and regular watering. You won’t regret the effort. A bowl of strawberries or strawberry shortcake anyone?
A message from Merlin: Seascape strawberries are very easy to grow. For one, they are day-neutral, which means they do not have an internal clock dictated by sunlight. They can grow where there is no sun at all. Perhaps that is why Purdue University recommended growing Seascape strawberries on space missions.
Sequoia strawberry planted in an old wine barrel. Strawberries grow great in containers.
The Inner Life
Posted on | December 31, 2011 | 1 Comment
Come spring this crape myrtle will cast a rich green canopy
Winter by San Diego standards arrived several days ago. I took the week after Christmas off and thanks to a warm Santa Ana I have been vigorously at work in the garden. I pruned ten rose bushes and countless other plants and tress. I pulled weeds and moved plants from one spot to another. The overall general clean-up resulted in close to fifteen bags being hauled by me to the garden bin, no small feat considering the terraced landscape. In comes the compost and top soil tomorrow. My friend Kris describes my hauling soil up the stairs equivalent to several deep knee bends using significant weight in each hand. I forget that gardening really is exercise! Despite sore muscles and aching hands, the work is satisfying. I wile away hours without thought while intermittently entertaining feats of garden magic. I am like a mad painter, a profoundly happy one at that!
My husband Jim looks at one tree and becomes worried. It is a crape myrtle, one of my favorites. I tell him to relax. It is a deciduous tree just like the nearby Birch and only looks dead. The truth is it is recharging the way a bear does when it hibernates for winter. It gathers its strength from its restful state, finding energy from the earth and from things we do not see. In some aspects, its loss of leaves brings us more light so we can endure the darker months. Come spring, however, it gives a joyous burst of pleasure, like a surprise hello, didn’t think I would come back, did you? kind.
Every season, and yes, we really do have them in San Diego despite appearances, has a lesson. Winter reminds me of the inner life we give too little attention. The life that is we must tend to if we are find and nourish peace of mind and the strength for the next bend in the road. To be strong for those decidedly endless days of spring, summer, even fall, we need our winter to turn inward, to rejuvenate, so we can make way for a more resilient and hopeful life.
Carrot tops burst through the earth promising produce of the best kind -- the kind from our own yards
Enjoy this season. It too shall pass but if well tended it too will bring the rewards a well lived life deserves.
Subscribe to Merlin's Garden Articles by Email
Welcome to Merlin's Garden
Merlin’s Garden is located in San Diego, California, which boasts a fabulous Mediterranean climate making year round gardening possible. Situated in USDA Zone 10a (Sunset Magazine Zone 24), we enjoy mild winters and summers cool enough to be pleasant. The garden is a work in progress as is this blog. I have a lot to learn, an understatement. My dogs are my constant companions, along with the occasional visit from the neighbor's cat, Smokey. There are the birds, of course, as well as bees, butterflies, lizards and host of other friends who visit the terrain. Magic and mayhem frequent Merlin's Garden constantly as does self-discovery and healing. I invite you to come see for yourself.
|
|