I discovered fairly early in our married life that my husband was a gardening enthusiast. By early I mean once we had purchased our first house. While I was the one who started planting stuff enthusiastically once we moved in, he was the one who sustained that interest. I gave up after I killed a few plants, little knowing that there were agricultural zones and not all plants that catch my fancy thrive in my agricultural zone. So I backed out of the whole thing gingerly and learnt a little more about plants and their survival in our garden. Case in point, my absolute conviction the Portland is very very aptly named 'City of Roses'. Roses are almost like weeds here.They thrive anywhere. Drive on US 26 and you will find roses growing along the sides in abundance. All colors, all sizes, all varieties..it is a riot of color!
One of the most heartbreaking things about moving houses was leaving behind the rose bushes. But I have almost 20 bushes here in the new house and am still looking for space to plant more.
So when I stepped back into the gardening scene, I knew a little more and was confident I wouldn't kill as many flora. It's worked out- mostly. Dahlias and Chrysanthemums are still my bane.
But Vincent took to it with abandon. He weeds with glee. He clears up spaces, buys soil and pebbles and spreads it patiently. He fertilises the plants with love. He resets the water sprinklers to water efficiently. He landscapes with enthusiasm. Even now, walking with him in the garden is a dangerous proposition. He will talk to you and walk along, but his mind and vision are completely occupied with his plants. Do they need water? Ah!There's a weed that needs to be plucked out. That plant needs some support, where are the trellises?.... and it goes on. He's the kind of guy who waits for darkness to settle in and then walks out, flashlight in hand, to kill those damn slugs that are eating his plants!!
When we moved here, the backyard was a mess.With a sharp down slope, the garden had a few hydrangeas and ferns and most of the space was taken up by a bunch of sugar plum trees which plopped down ripe fruit and propagated that way. An old oak tree was dying strangled by ivy and the whole place had solid steps made of railroad lumber and gravel. It was like having the jungle as your backyard.
There was a tiny patch right when you stepped out of the back door which seemed worth tackling and and Vincent and I set to work on clearing it out.We got rid of a few bushes and even a small tree growing there, rescued a skimpy rose plant whose roots we had to pretty much cut away because it was so entwined in the tree's gnarly roots. We transplanted it to another location, without much hope, but six years now and my white roses are my pride and joy! We planted a whole lot of day lilies , and bulbs and ground cover and that patch holds a special place in my heart because, we did all the work without paying someone to do it for us.We selected plants we wanted and we watched them grow and thrive and flower. Kind of like watching your kids grow?
But through it all, there is this one plant that thumbs its nose at us every year. I just google searched by picture and found out that it is called Cape Fuschia. Vincent assiduously clips the fresh shoots off come spring, and then keeps cutting it back as much as possible. It has pinkish bell shaped flowers and it cannot ever be killed off. Vincent has dug up most of the roots, but like clockwork it keeps reappearing every spring. It is not an ugly looking plant, I have to concede. But it seems out of place lending an imbalance to the patch we worked on so hard to clean up and beautify.
So almost for six years now, Vincent has been diligently weeding it out and sure as the nose on my face, it keeps coming back. Knowing my husband, I'm sure he has plans for the plant-torture maybe?!
He walked in last week and told me that he had noticed that the hummingbirds seemed to like the flowers on that plant. Just a passing comment. But today sitting on the couch in my family room I saw a humming bird land on a flower and poke its nose into it.The plant swayed a bit at this lightweight intruder's presence and the buzz of the bird's fluttering wings was a visual treat I enjoyed before I decided, I had to record it. I tiptoed up to try to make recording, and the bird flew off. I walked back the couch, thinking to myself, "I'll do it another time!" Then it hit me - here we were, trying to get rid of the plant and I was planning on something that meant that the plant had to stay unscathed.
In these days of our Groundhog Day existence, it occurred to me that if I thought my life, in fact all our lives seemed to be monotonous cycle day in and day out, then the circle of life was a much bigger, all encompassing thing. And it was a huge circle. A cyclical phenomenon. Things were rhythmic.There was a pattern. Everything and everyone has a preordained part to play and it is a repetitive role. Kind of like the Groundhog Day stuff. Everyday is a circle, with minor variations. Every activity of the day is a circle-breakfast, lunch, dinner? Routine cycle. Sleep, wake, eat, bathe, commute to work, return, eat, sleep? Cycle again. Day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year.With minor variations. But we never zoom out and notice that we live a cyclical life . So we live it without complaint(mostly). The 'minor variations' I mentioned? That's what keeps us going. An outing, a weekend movie, a vacation, an overseas trip, a wedding, an interesting book, a walk in a park-take your pick. But the inevitability of the cyclical nature of our life? Pare our lives down and you see that we are part of this huge Wheel of Life. And our survival is based, not on all those minor variations I mentioned.Those things keep us sane and fooled into thinking trivialities like a wayward plant are crucial to life. But in reality, it is those monotonous cyclical things-eat, sleep, wake, eat, sleep that actually matter more to our survival.
The hummingbird feeding off of a reviled plant is also part of a cycle.Science teaches us about the Food Cycle(Chain) and I thought to myself, this was part of such a cycle and we were trying to interrupt it. Sure the bird will find other sources of food. But this tiny cog in that mighty wheel might have ramifications we are not clued into.
We talk about global warming and oceans rising and changing weather patterns and more storms and droughts and ultimately end up saying it might be caused by humankind.We tinker with nature and try to bend things to our benefit. But sometimes(or most of the time), nature gives back as good as it gets. Case in point- Covid19. Globalization helped the virus move unimpeded and with alacrity. That speed can be laid directly at our door. In our haste to make life easier on us, we neglected the fact that we made it easier for nature too.To catch up, to infect, to kill. Black death traveled on ships that took months to reach their destination. Coronavirus does that in hours. When nature tries to catch your attention, you better listen. Today the hummingbird was my messenger. Besides, I have a zen friend who says she has learnt the subtle art of surrender. Fighting and fighting back are counter productive.Mostly you don't feel better winning. Victory doesn't feel victorious- especially with people close to you. Giving up might feel like failure, but retaining your sanity and peace -worth the defeat.
So I am throwing in the towel with this Cape Fuschia. I will not let it takeover my yard.But I will not try to eliminate it either. Then we both will be doing our part in keeping the world turning .
Now, for the hard part - I need to convince Vincent to let the plant be.
One of the most heartbreaking things about moving houses was leaving behind the rose bushes. But I have almost 20 bushes here in the new house and am still looking for space to plant more.
So when I stepped back into the gardening scene, I knew a little more and was confident I wouldn't kill as many flora. It's worked out- mostly. Dahlias and Chrysanthemums are still my bane.
But Vincent took to it with abandon. He weeds with glee. He clears up spaces, buys soil and pebbles and spreads it patiently. He fertilises the plants with love. He resets the water sprinklers to water efficiently. He landscapes with enthusiasm. Even now, walking with him in the garden is a dangerous proposition. He will talk to you and walk along, but his mind and vision are completely occupied with his plants. Do they need water? Ah!There's a weed that needs to be plucked out. That plant needs some support, where are the trellises?.... and it goes on. He's the kind of guy who waits for darkness to settle in and then walks out, flashlight in hand, to kill those damn slugs that are eating his plants!!
When we moved here, the backyard was a mess.With a sharp down slope, the garden had a few hydrangeas and ferns and most of the space was taken up by a bunch of sugar plum trees which plopped down ripe fruit and propagated that way. An old oak tree was dying strangled by ivy and the whole place had solid steps made of railroad lumber and gravel. It was like having the jungle as your backyard.
There was a tiny patch right when you stepped out of the back door which seemed worth tackling and and Vincent and I set to work on clearing it out.We got rid of a few bushes and even a small tree growing there, rescued a skimpy rose plant whose roots we had to pretty much cut away because it was so entwined in the tree's gnarly roots. We transplanted it to another location, without much hope, but six years now and my white roses are my pride and joy! We planted a whole lot of day lilies , and bulbs and ground cover and that patch holds a special place in my heart because, we did all the work without paying someone to do it for us.We selected plants we wanted and we watched them grow and thrive and flower. Kind of like watching your kids grow?
But through it all, there is this one plant that thumbs its nose at us every year. I just google searched by picture and found out that it is called Cape Fuschia. Vincent assiduously clips the fresh shoots off come spring, and then keeps cutting it back as much as possible. It has pinkish bell shaped flowers and it cannot ever be killed off. Vincent has dug up most of the roots, but like clockwork it keeps reappearing every spring. It is not an ugly looking plant, I have to concede. But it seems out of place lending an imbalance to the patch we worked on so hard to clean up and beautify.
So almost for six years now, Vincent has been diligently weeding it out and sure as the nose on my face, it keeps coming back. Knowing my husband, I'm sure he has plans for the plant-torture maybe?!
He walked in last week and told me that he had noticed that the hummingbirds seemed to like the flowers on that plant. Just a passing comment. But today sitting on the couch in my family room I saw a humming bird land on a flower and poke its nose into it.The plant swayed a bit at this lightweight intruder's presence and the buzz of the bird's fluttering wings was a visual treat I enjoyed before I decided, I had to record it. I tiptoed up to try to make recording, and the bird flew off. I walked back the couch, thinking to myself, "I'll do it another time!" Then it hit me - here we were, trying to get rid of the plant and I was planning on something that meant that the plant had to stay unscathed.
In these days of our Groundhog Day existence, it occurred to me that if I thought my life, in fact all our lives seemed to be monotonous cycle day in and day out, then the circle of life was a much bigger, all encompassing thing. And it was a huge circle. A cyclical phenomenon. Things were rhythmic.There was a pattern. Everything and everyone has a preordained part to play and it is a repetitive role. Kind of like the Groundhog Day stuff. Everyday is a circle, with minor variations. Every activity of the day is a circle-breakfast, lunch, dinner? Routine cycle. Sleep, wake, eat, bathe, commute to work, return, eat, sleep? Cycle again. Day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year.With minor variations. But we never zoom out and notice that we live a cyclical life . So we live it without complaint(mostly). The 'minor variations' I mentioned? That's what keeps us going. An outing, a weekend movie, a vacation, an overseas trip, a wedding, an interesting book, a walk in a park-take your pick. But the inevitability of the cyclical nature of our life? Pare our lives down and you see that we are part of this huge Wheel of Life. And our survival is based, not on all those minor variations I mentioned.Those things keep us sane and fooled into thinking trivialities like a wayward plant are crucial to life. But in reality, it is those monotonous cyclical things-eat, sleep, wake, eat, sleep that actually matter more to our survival.
The hummingbird feeding off of a reviled plant is also part of a cycle.Science teaches us about the Food Cycle(Chain) and I thought to myself, this was part of such a cycle and we were trying to interrupt it. Sure the bird will find other sources of food. But this tiny cog in that mighty wheel might have ramifications we are not clued into.
We talk about global warming and oceans rising and changing weather patterns and more storms and droughts and ultimately end up saying it might be caused by humankind.We tinker with nature and try to bend things to our benefit. But sometimes(or most of the time), nature gives back as good as it gets. Case in point- Covid19. Globalization helped the virus move unimpeded and with alacrity. That speed can be laid directly at our door. In our haste to make life easier on us, we neglected the fact that we made it easier for nature too.To catch up, to infect, to kill. Black death traveled on ships that took months to reach their destination. Coronavirus does that in hours. When nature tries to catch your attention, you better listen. Today the hummingbird was my messenger. Besides, I have a zen friend who says she has learnt the subtle art of surrender. Fighting and fighting back are counter productive.Mostly you don't feel better winning. Victory doesn't feel victorious- especially with people close to you. Giving up might feel like failure, but retaining your sanity and peace -worth the defeat.
So I am throwing in the towel with this Cape Fuschia. I will not let it takeover my yard.But I will not try to eliminate it either. Then we both will be doing our part in keeping the world turning .
Now, for the hard part - I need to convince Vincent to let the plant be.
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