August 21, 2012

Back To Normal?

Maybe the Mayans were right and this is the end of times, at least I thought so all Summer, as I discovered each large crack in the ground and imagined I could see straight to Hell. Even the soil around the bog garden, which is directly above an underground spring and therefore mushy even in July, was drying out. Every day, a decision had to be made...which bush, tree or garden needed water to be saved? Leaves were curling on the Lilac and Burning bushes. Most of the ever reliable Ferns turned brown and the Bee Balm flowers died off as soon as they bloomed. And where are the Dragon flies? I would read about the corn and soy bean fields, then feel guilty each time I turned on the hose, but Gallery In The Garden was just around the corner and those who would attend our event expected to see a lovely garden as well as lovely art. As it turned out, they were not disappointed. The Flock, Joe Pye, Clematis, Rose of Sharon and Cardinal flowers all came through to provide just enough color, with my Hostas carrying the day. Thank goodness for shade, which assisted in making things green. There were lots of compliments from visitors, with one woman saying that she came each year just to see the garden, "I enjoy the art, but I love the garden", so that made my day and all those hours of toiling in the heat worthwhile.

I've reclaimed the garden now and we are in recovery mode. The grass and I share the same sigh of relief, as I too feel trampled and spent. The show is over, except for the splash of water and bird song, all is quiet. My senses used to be shocked by the sudden input of so much stimuli, but I miss the sound of the show. It has a life of it's own and I find it rather wonderful how, during that brief time, the artists come together to form a community of sharing and support. After everyone is settled into their space, in between customers, there is catching up on news, discussing creative techniques, swapping and buying from each other. Friendships are formed or rekindled. A collective conversation, rising and falling like music.

I have to admit that in the weeks before our event, I say to anyone who will listen, "I will never do this again!" Now I am already looking forward to next year's Gallery In The Garden, which will be even bigger and better. Thank you to all who came and shared the experience.

February 2, 2012

Winter Musings

Gardeners never really hibernate. Our bodies may rest, but our minds are at work, already considering which beds need remodeling, what latest new flowers to consider trying and a whole slew of worries.

This year in particular, while all the joggers, lunch brown baggers, and mommies with strollers are outside ooo-ing and ahh-ing over the happy-dappy temperatures....and don't get me wrong...I'm lovin' the bottom line on my Nicor bill, still there is a dark and sinister side to all this hoopla. Thawing and freezing. Freezing and thawing. The garden death chant. Consider this all you warmth worshipers: While you were rejoicing in December, my pussy willow tree was in bud, an iris near the house was green and growing and Dan from the paint store said his lilac bush was about to bloom. E-gads! In January, I read about a hummingbird visiting a yard in Oak Park. That can't be good for him, poor thing. Now it is Ground Hog Day and I heard about a woman smacking something on her forehead and discovering that it was a mosquito. Well, to hell with him anyway, it is all the rest that I care about. Sprouting tree buds which will freeze and not produce our lovely, sweet smelling blossoms in Spring and the perennials hate being heaved up and down. But most important, snow is vital, for insulation, then for moisture when it melts. The moral of this is that, yet once again, there is nothing to be done except wait and see how all this plays out...AND I HATE THAT. The bamboo in the Japanese garden is as happy as can be, so maybe if this climate continues to change I should start planning a tropical garden. Hmm... I do love gardenias.

So, as you can tell, I am grumpy and fretful in the Winter, but now I know the real reason why and it may be the way to world peace. I've recently discovered an article about Mycobacterium vaccae, a harmless bacteria normally found in dirt, that has been found to stimulate the immune system of mice and boost the production of serotonin, a mood regulating brain chemical. It has been used in a vaccine for TB and leprosy. Dr. Mary O'Brian, an oncologist at the Royal Marsden Hospital in London has tested it on her cancer patients and stated her patients "emotional health, vitality and general cognitive function improved." Dr. Christopher Lowry, publishing in Neuroscience 2007 on the importance of a good immune system in mental health observed, "This leaves us wondering if we shouldn't all be spending more time playing in the dirt." I rest my case.

I am not the only one thinking about the coming season, the artists who participate in Gallery In The Garden are beginning to send me their applications. The " Early Bird Award" goes to Lori Indovina-Valus, a nature photographer who takes outstanding pictures of birds, among other things. That she would be the early bird struck me as being funny. There you go, just thinking about dirt has improved my outlook. In the meantime, artists all over McHenry County....fire up those kilns, slap on that paint, frame those prints and if it doesn't snow on July 28 and 29, then we will have ourselves an art show!

August 7, 2011

All Gone

All Summer I've grumbled about how hard it was to get ready for Gallery In The Garden, that it was just too much and this would be the last year. Toward the end, between just you and me, I was only weeding the front of the flower beds, justifying my decision by saying that no one would notice the back part. BUT I KNEW and that was sufficient for a fair amount of guilt. Then a woman who had attended the show, confided to us about her guilt concerning the weeds in her garden, because she had looked around mine and was amazed that she didn't see a single one! Either she is nuts, blind or being nice, but I prefer to think that I pulled it off and things did look great.

The transition from the blessed solitude of the garden to the preparation, then the opening of the show, requires a switch in my mind....a letting go. I must move from thinking of the arriving artists as intruders in my private world, to a place where they are welcome guests. This happens the day before the show when everyone begins to arrive for set-up. At first a few, then many and before you know it a patchwork of blue and white pops up above the tops of the trees and shrubs. Artists greet each other as they bring in their boxes of pottery and jewelry. Another world takes shape, an encampment of sorts and I think that this is what it was like when the circus arrived in town. I am always amazed by how it all comes together and by 10:00 on Sat.it is showtime!

My favorite time is Sunday morning. I've had a good nights rest, because everything is done and I can begin to enjoy the event, which includes listening in on comments about the garden when the visitors don't know I'm the gardener. That is fun. And guess what?....All that worrying was for nothing, nada, zero, zip. The usual feeling is that the space is so "tranquil or meditative" and that "they would never go inside if they lived here".( I guess they didn't see the weeds behind the hostas). Seriously, in that moment I am able to put aside my own issues and see the garden through their eyes, realizing that I've achieved what I had hoped for, that they feel what I feel.

There are two other highlights that mean a lot to all of us. First, the return of our friend and artist, R.B. McCallister who one year ago, after the close of our show, became critically ill, but has made a miraculous comeback. As Rob and I walk around the show visiting the artists, there R.B. is in his favorite spot, under the big pine, surrounded by his pottery, a constant group of friends and his devoted artist/wife Kim. He is made of special clay. The other highlight is the participation of the "lemonade girls", as we all call them. We noticed that two of our neighbor girls, ages 12 and 10, were running a lemonade stand across the street with 80% of their profits going to our charity. "It was their idea, the Dad said", so we just couldn't do anything else except move them into the middle of the action in our driveway. What neat kids and at the end of the day, they donated $30 to CASA for the benefit of other children. It is the perfect touch to a great weekend and symbolizes what this event is all about.

It is also so cool to have my own handy cafe, Jenapeas,right on the back porch, waiting to serve a delicious wrap whenever I feel hungry, then later in the day when I'm ready for a little something to go with my iced coffee, I can go to the front yard and buy a decadent Jaci's cookie from one of the dedicated CASA volunteers, without whom Gallery In The Garden would not be possible. Now this is the life! Food, music, art, conversation and just as I'm really into it, the show ends. Just like that and within an hour everyone, everything is gone. The circus has moved on. Once again, the garden is quiet and except for the grass you would never know that 1200 or so people had ever passed this way. Was this a dream, did it really happen my mind asks as it struggles once again to readjust? And I have to admit that I miss it all....until next year.

July 20, 2011

My Oasis

I have been ordered by my partner not to leave the house today, in other words...NO GARDENING! It wasn't too hard to convince me after yesterday's round of weed pulling. Even though I was prepared with a coffee carafe filled with ice and water, I had taken a potassium pill and I had a wet bandanna around my neck, I still thought I might pass out. Lucky for me, I was working around a water feature in the Japanese garden and I thought I could always put my head in it if worse came to worst. Then I started thinking about birds pooping in the water, to say nothing of opossums drinking from there and I tried to decide which fate would I prefer. So, I poured the rest of my ice water on my head and called it quits for the day.

I am my own worst enemy when it comes to my creativity, whether it is painting or gardening. I am a perfectionist. Gallery In The Garden is ten days away and YIKES....there are still weeds to be pulled! I know that Mother Nature is conspiring against me. First the rain and cold, now the heat. Everyone is going to notice! Really? Really Deb? Well, maybe not. Actually when I went over to town today, I noticed that every single yard looked like a slab of brown, no green to be seen in any direction. As I came home, it was like arriving at an oasis of lush color. Having a shade garden is an advantage after all. The white Goose Neck, aptly named for it's craning flower is absolutely spectacular this year. Then there is the pink Joe Pye, the red Cardinal flower, and the magenta Bee Balm, the blue/white Morning Glory twinning up the bird house pole and the purple Clematis taking over the bog garden fence. The pink and white Phlox are about to pop and here and there are sprinkles of yellow. I will have the water bill from Hell, but it will be worth it when our visitors begin to make their way down the garden path on July 30 and 31st. They won't notice a less than perfectly weeded garden, rather they will be greeted by a palette of color, both Nature and artist made, all framed in green.

So buy a gourmet cookie from Jaci or a sandwich and cool drink from Jenapea's cafe located on the back porch. Then find a table and chair under a shade tree, listen to the lovely music provided by our talented musicians, while checking out the art that surrounds you. I look forward to greeting you in my oasis.

June 27, 2011

It's A Jungle Out There

This Spring I took a trip to Saulk City, Wisconsin to revisit one of my favorite artist's work. It is well worth the time to see Tom Evermore's fanciful out of doors sculpture park, which is adjacent to a wonderful salvage store. This fact is appropriate as salvage is Tom's medium. When I met him several years ago he was a curmudgeonly old guy, kind of bent over, probably from decades of lifting huge pieces of scrap iron into place. Tom said that he never changes a thing about a found piece, uses it exactly as he finds it and thus in this manner he created an orchestra of 30ft. tall birds who are at the same time both the instrument and the musician, complete with a conductor. Their bodies are welded together, using parts of machines, engines, tools, scissors, truck horns. Some of his pieces are massive and look like time machines and space ships, while others are low to the ground like one of his dragons which is in my garden.

I happened to think about Tom while I was sitting on my garden path, reclaiming the right of way from unwanted vegetation. It was so bad, that even though I was the one who laid this path, for a moment I couldn't tell which way it went. It was as if I was in a jungle and all I had to clear it was this inadequate pair of household scissors and then I wished I had bought that beautiful machete I had seen at the salvage store. I had never seen a machete for sale before and something told me that it might be a good thing to have, although I couldn't have told you why.....until today. And then I thought about Tom Evermore and that is the way my mind works.

After that, I thought about the Creeping Charlie that I was pulling out by the bushel full. I measured one leaf and it was actually 2 3/8" across! The garden expert in our local paper said today that "plant growth seems to be behind schedule" and I wondered what planet he was talking about. I recalled weeding this same flower bed earlier in the Spring and that even though I tried to get the Creeping Charlie out, it alluded me by growing along side the "good vines". At the height of it's hubris, it shows itself as the bullying, narcissistic plant that it really is and as it spreads over the top of everything in it's way....bam...that is when you can get it. Some people can be like that, I muse. And then I thought about Dr. Daniel Kuzahara, who taught Developmental Psychology and changed my life. He said "All answers are found in Nature." And my heart knows this to be true. This is also the way my mind works.

June 27, 2011

It's A Jungle Out There

This Spring I took a trip to Saulk City, Wisconsin to revisit one of my favorite artist's work. It is well worth the time to see Tom Evermore's fanciful out of doors sculpture park, which is adjacent to a wonderful salvage store. This fact is appropriate as salvage is Tom's medium. When I met him several years ago he was a curmudgeonly old guy, kind of bent over, probably from decades of lifting huge pieces of scrap iron into place. Tom said that he never changes a thing about a found piece, uses it exactly as he finds it and thus in this manner he created an orchestra of 30ft. tall birds who are at the same time both the instrument and the musician, complete with a conductor. Their bodies are welded together, using parts of machines, engines, tools, scissors, truck horns. Some of his pieces are massive and look like time machines and space ships, while others are low to the ground like one of his dragons which is in my garden.

I happened to think about Tom while I was sitting on my garden path, reclaiming the right of way from unwanted vegetation. It was so bad, that even though I was the one who laid this path, for a moment I couldn't tell which way it went. It was as if I was in a jungle and all I had to clear it was this inadequate pair of household scissors and then I wished I had bought that beautiful machete I had seen at the salvage store. I had never seen a machete for sale before and something told me that it might be a good thing to have, although I couldn't have told you why.....until today. And then I thought about Tom Evermore and that is the way my mind works.

After that, I thought about the Creeping Charlie that I was pulling out by the bushel full. I measured one leaf and it was actually 2 3/8" across! The garden expert in our local paper said today that "plant growth seems to be behind schedule" and I wondered what planet he was talking about. I recalled weeding this same flower bed earlier in the Spring and that even though I tried to get the Creeping Charlie out, it alluded me by growing along side the "good vines". At the height of it's hubris, it shows itself as the bullying, narcissistic plant that it really is and as it spreads over the top of everything in it's way....bam...that is when you can get it. Some people can be like that, I muse. And then I thought about Dr. Daniel Kuzahara, who taught Developmental Psychology and changed my life. He said "All answers are found in Nature." And my heart knows this to be true. This is also the way my mind works.

June 07, 2011

The Green Rapture

What is going on and which planet is this or am I having a series of senior moments? Tom Skilling just said that this will be the hottest day in five years and two days from now it will be back in the sixties. Really? This has been a gardeners roller coast ride and it isn't over yet. I feel sorry for the nurseries who have been unable to sell their plants on time, because everyone was afraid of frost and now hail, flooding rain and bouts of intense heat.

My plants look like they are on steroids, especially the hostas and grass, so whatever is happening, it is good for them. Last year, my whole life was devoted to growing grass and now all I do is mow. It is unbelievable and actually a little scarey. Maybe this is how The Rapture will actually play itself out... consumed by huge plants. The survival of the fittest, day lilies crowding out ferns, big honking hostas pushing the elegant solomon seal to one side. Still, the sneaky underworld of creeping charlie and pig weed manage to find a way to survive in the shadow of the favored plants. And the dandelions... well, I could enter them in the 4-H competition at this years fair and easily win first place. If it weren't so damn hot, I would be out there now waging war, but if I wait two days, I can put on my winter coat and attack.

Actually, I have won one important victory. Last Fall I had drainage tile put in at the lowest point in the yard, so that this year's Gallery In The Garden won't be shut down if we should have a heavy rain. Then I waited and waited and waited for a heavy rain, anxious to see how it would work. You know how this goes. Carry an umbrella and it won't rain, wash your car and it will. Not until this Spring did I get a downpour significant enough to constitute a real test. And hip-hip-hooray... it worked like a charm. So come one, come all on July 30 and 31. Unless the climbing hydrangea grabs you as you come through the garden gate, at least you won't drown.

May 06, 2011

Mystery Of The Vanishing Pond

Nancy Drew was my hero when I was a kid and I think that I should have been a detective when I grew up, but alas, I live vicariously through CSI. However, my attention to detail has always come into play in all of my pursuits and I enjoy being a problem solver. My partner says that I am the visual one, while she experiences the world as a kinesthetic and that together we make one splendidly observant person. Well, all I have to say is that if you are lost in the forest, I am the one you want leading the search. Gale, on the other hand could wander aimlessly for days and not notice the trail of cookie crumbs, unless she felt them under her bare feet. This is my prologue to "The Mystery of The Vanishing Pond".

I first noticed weeks ago that the water in my big pond was getting low, so I checked the pumping system and everything seemed fine. I pulled the hose out and added some water. Once again....low water, so maybe the spitter (a feature that causes water to arc in the air) was set too high and the wind was catching it. I reduced the spitter's intensity and added more water. That made sense, now everything will be fine, but just in case I'll leave the hose in the pond. Days passed and more water gone. Well....it must be evaporation from the sun combined with the dogs lapping at it, but this is a 1200 gal. pond and it is inches lower. That translates to a lot of water! I added more.

During this time I cleaned out the little pond that is near the porch, then uncoupled a length of the hose closest to the faucet and used this section to fill that pond up. There are so many Spring cleanup projects and as I walked back and forth from one end of the yard to the other, I noticed something, a small detail.

CLUE #1: By the Korean Spice bush, there was a small puddle of water underneath the coupling between the second section of hose and the last section of hose going to the big pond. I thought, 'What the heck, did I forget to turn off the faucet?', but that wouldn't make sense because the first section was still disconnected from the second section. Uhm-mmmm?

Well, for days every time I passed that spot I noticed that it was still wet, but I attributed this to some water left in the line and still draining out. In the meantime, the frogs were beginning their love songs and the Marsh Marigolds lit up the gray days with their brilliantly yellow faces. I watched a Robin sit on the rock in the middle of the pond and take advantage of the lower, now dangerously lower level, to gather a huge beak full of algae. I was sick with worry, what to do, what to do? I could drain the rest of the water and search for a hole in the bottom, possibly a tree root poking through, but it would mean trying to catch dozens of fish and probably missing some. And, it was frog mating time, what would this do to their nursery? Maybe I could wade into the water that remained and feel around in the muck on the bottom. Oh, ick....I don't want to do that, besides that water is still darned cold. Dejected, I decided to go to the faucet, turn on the hose, fill the pond once again and owe the water department even more money.

CLUE#2: Passing by the Spice bush once again, I noticed the puddle of water under the hose and I had a light bulb moment! Was it possible, I asked myself, that this hose is acting as a siphon? I followed the trail back. Hose coming out of pond, up over small berm, the ground with maybe just enough angle coming away from the berm toward the center of the yard where the Spice bush is......and....uhm-mmm...the lowest point in the yard, the spot that has always flooded first, because it is so low. AH-HA!! Sherlock Holmes would have been proud, "Elementary, my dear Watson".

Solution: Testing my hypothesis, I took the hose out of the pond and waited a day watching the water level. Seeing no change, I filled the pond up (it took an hour), remembered to remove the hose, did my little 'I am so cool dance', then rushed off to City Hall to pay my water bill.

The moral of this story is that first you need to notice the cookie crumbs, then you must take them seriously.

February 22, 2011

Wakey Uppy

While we all wanted to hibernate, just pull up the covers and forget this Winter, Mother Nature has been anything but idle. What a tease she is...frigid and forbidding, then raging, next seducing us with her promise of warmth and running shoes. Now, rain and thunder in February? I'm certain that we are due for locusts. If it weren't for Tom Skilling and his charts, we would think we were in the middle of Greek Mythology 101. I personally have been pretending that the white stuff is really white sand on a distant beach.

Well, WAKEY UPPY everyone....the Pussy Willows are in bloom!! The earliest harbinger of coming Spring, of hope, the sweet, puffy, little Pussy Willow buds. Can Gallery In The Garden be far behind? As I gaze out on the backyard, with it's dirty snow and a Winter's worth of dog poop, and tree litter, I think that there will not be enough months to whip this garden into shape. But there always is and before I know it, the artists tents will be tucked away around the pond and the flower beds. Music will be in the air and the bees, oblivious to the human activity, will be going about their work amongst the scarlet bee balm and lavender flocks.

Any day now, the Snow Drop will be the next little discovery. Appropriately named for it's white drop shaped flower which can be found blooming in the snow. What an amazing time of year! Transition from death to life, new birth, affirmation of life's continuity. A story told from the beginning of time, still so fresh and eagerly anticipated.
Lest we forget, this too is Mother Nature at work.

In the meantime, I will be planning and planting in preparation for our next Gallery In The Garden...July 30-31.
Stay tuned for gardening updates.

August 1, 2010

Closed For The Season

I paid rapt attention to Tom Skilling's forecast for at least a week, scrutinizing every radar map, allowing my mood to rise and fall on his every word and for awhile there was plenty of reason to be optimistic. Then,
inevitably, after four years of perfect Gallery weather...it happened. It rained and it rained hard. I just knew what to expect by the sound on the skylight above my bed, but I needed confirmation for what I feared in my heart to be true. So armed with a flashlight, at 4:30 a.m., I was wading through the water in my garden. The entire backyard was soggy, but the ankle deep water divided it in two. The reality was that no one would be able to walk through the show in 5 1/2 hours. The part of the Gallery in the B&B yard was high and dry, but there
were artist's tents blown down in both yards. Bad news piled on when radar indicated more rain was on the way. And so, the inevitable and painful decision was made to cancel Saturday's show and hope for the best on Sunday. Sooner or later, bad weather would happen as we had been running on borrowed time for quite awhile, but we never knew what we would do until it happened.

Well, the experience is like reversing the course of a small army. The generals made the decision, the message is sent and everyone freaks out! Command central lit up with questions. Some artists arrived before receiving the message, their cars loaded with art, volunteers had nothing to do, the food vendor had to make new wraps the next morning and perhaps worst of all, we stood and watched visitors slow, see the closed sign and drive on. Would they come back tomorrow, will there be a tomorrow? So armed with a sump pump and 20 bags of mulch, we attacked.

Between 10:00am and 5:00pm the next day, 1035 people walked down the little mulched path, through Gallery In The Garden, past the wrought iron butterflies and mermaids displayed in the lily bed, the stained glass tucked in by the pink and white phlox, around the bend of the bog to where the musicians added their background to the colors of the day. It was perfect!

A week has passed and I have reclaimed my space. The Wren parents somehow survived the way too close proximity of the potters and jewelry makers set up right under their house and now have left the nest, until their return next year. So, it is with me.

July 19, 2010

Vampires!!!

I know who the first vampires were and they exist in my yard. Right now, they are circling about, on the hunt for an opportunity for some blood letting. Frantic for the taste, they are beyond persistent. The six pack, pale hunks on Twilight? No, the tiny winged insects known as mosquitoes, but by me there are many names all of which can't be written here.

My love for gardening diminishes under two circumstances, the presence of humidity and the tiny vampires, both of which are in play right now. There is nothing worse than spraying on Deet, then proceeding to pull weeds while the sweat washes it away, creating new areas for attack. One way or another, my life expectancy is being reduced, I just know it. These conditions are unfortunate as it is the final week before Gallery In The Garden and some touch-ups to the flower beds are necessary. It is amazing how all the weeds that I pulled before the garden walk in June are back...now how did that happen? But I digress, back to the vampires.

I've tried Mosquito Beater which is a natural treatment and there are those blue light lanterns which capture them all over the yard and well as a big expensive mosquito magnate (good for 1/2 acre) that frequently stops working. To say nothing of all my frogs, toads and Wrens. What's up with them? Have they lost their appetites? And where is a bat when you need him, even a rabid one would help.

Everything is good to go: The Bee Balm is ablaze with red, as is the Lobelia, Goose Neck is spectacular, Joe Pye is starting to pop and good old trusty Phlox is having another go at it. The yoga deck, which will double as a sound stage, is built, as well as the fence and boardwalk surrounding the bog. What an ordeal that was!

Now, it is one thing for the gardener to do battle with the vampires everyday, but all I need is for all the artists and visitors to be swatting their way down the path. So this is it, the line has been drawn and they flew over it.
I have bought the ultimate machine of mass destruction.....A FOGGER! I know, I know, it is not a green solution, but when you come to Gallery In The Garden on July 24 and 25, you will thank me. Trust me.

Ah, ha! Take that and that! Drop like flies, you vicious so and soes!

June 28, 2010

A Garden of Acceptance

Well, I survived! All the garden walkers walked through the garden and not one mentioned seeing the weeds that I didn't get to, so all that worrying was for nothing. Now if I can just carry that message through to Gallery In The Garden time and beyond.

I saw an interview with a famous actor and he said that he never listens to or reads his reviews. Garden walks can be critiques too and so as the Walk's hostess escorted the visitors around, I hid away on the back porch debating whether or not to participate. Partly because I was so exhausted, having been gardening until sunset the night before, then at it again with the final touches at 6:00am. and also I just didn't know if I wanted to hear one negative comment. Eventually I got my second wind and gave it a try. As it turned out, the visitors were delightful and full of positive feedback. I surprised myself by being able to answer most questions, identifying plants even using their correct names...ooops,.except in one situation. If you are reading this blog and asked me about a zen looking bush, I apologize, because it is a Dogwood Pagoda not what I said. I gave away some Wild Ginger and Chameleon with offers from the recipients to come and visit theplants.Two women returned later in the evening, asking if their husbands could see the garden. I had a wonderful conversation with an enchanting ten year old girl about collecting rocks and turtles eating goldfish. It turned out to be a perfect day.

The adjectives most often used by the visitors was "meditative" or "tranquil." Ha! If only they had been here the day I painted the Yoga deck. Tom Skilling had promised a rain free day, so off I went paint brushes and sketch in hand. The design was simple, consisting of a four foot circle in the center of the deck and the circle filled with a white lotus on top of which was the symbol for Om. I thought as long as I was creating this, I should really be apart of the process and chant and meditate while applying the paint. So there I am, blissfully "Om-ing" when the wind picked up and I spied a big black cloud approaching. How quickly I snapped out of that peaceful place and went to the darkside, as I shook my fist at the sky and cursed all weathermen, especially my favorite and most trusted authority, Tom Skilling! “But, you promised,” I whined.

Right now, my backyard is so soggy that even the bog garden is dog paddling. The grass that I had nurtured all Spring is either dead or playing possum. I have restarted my cycle of worry with Gallery right around the corner, but today is fantastically beautiful and that is all I am promised, so in the words of my late friend, gardener and Buddhist...."Accept and transcend." I'll try Pat, I'll try.

June 8, 2010

Shared Space

Did you know that there are bog snorkelling contests in Wales and that some of them are done on bicycles? If only Rob and I had known that when we were out in the thick of it last month, we could have actually had fun. So I Googled it and discovered that the Brits rate this event right up there with cheese rolling as a jolly good way to spend a weekend. What a bunch of babies, their idea of a bog is more like a McHenry County wetland, filled with mostly water and muck on the bottom. Mine is more suited to mud wrestling. Now if it weren't for the flowers....

The mosquitoes have arrived with a vengeance and take some of the pleasure out of gardening. Each year I ask myself the same rhetorical question and give myself the same logical answer as to why mosquitoes were created. It helps and I seem to gain a small measure of acceptance.

Everything is in speedup mode, because there is a garden walk happening here in less than two weeks. My list of things to do is endless: I haven't painted a design on the yoga deck Rob and I built, the boardwalk needs to be level, some plants need to go in the ground and then there are THE WEEDS! My priority list is getting smaller by the day. I am at the point of asking myself, which weeds do people visiting a garden notice? There are the weeds hidden back behind something category, the weeds among the nice plants and the weeds in between the bricks of the path category. Forget the hidden stuff, no one will ever know.Anyone can forgive an errant weed or two where it shows, but a messy path is unforgivable!

So slathered in Deet and with a cushion to sit on, I began under the arbor where the path begins. Immediately, I heard a lot of scolding from a pair of Robins and soon the Wren came by to see what the heck was going on. I figured that there must be a cat nearby, but their anger seemed focused on me. "The nerve of you guys, this is my garden!" And so I continued as they got ever closer. Just then as I reached for a dandelion, my finger bushed against something soft and there it was, a naked little baby bird, so new that it's eyes were still closed. I discovered their nest, built on top of the arbor and very well hidden by the climbing hydrangea. Holding the baby in my hand so that the parents could see what I was doing, I took the baby back home. Order was restored, all was quiet for awhile and then one of the Robins gifted me with a joyful song.

This is not really my garden. I just share a space with all of the other living things.

May 26, 2010

This entry must be titled, The Blog About The Bog. Where to begin, well for one thing when last I wrote about the bog, I optimistically declared that I had developed a 'plan'. That plan did not include Mother Nature and once again we differed on how things would get done.

Two days before my son was to come from New York, specifically to do the heavy lifting required in achieving my vision, it rained. As I listened to the rain on the roof that night, I just knew by the pounding sound of it, what I should expect the next day. Sure enough, the sight that greeted me in the morning was a large lake, almost knee deep, that encompassed not only the new grass, the daylilly and perennial beds, but the bog garden as well. I rented a sump pump and ran 50 ft. of hose into the nearby storm sewer, which is the antiquated kind that is above ground and thereby useless for normal drainage, but it worked.

The truth about a bog garden is that it doesn't really matter whether it is covered in water....it is always wet anyway.It may not look wet, but trust me, the water is hiding under the surface just waiting to suck you under. So what we were faced with was how to install a split rail fence, a boardwalk and yoga deck in a black muck posturing as soil, that has no bottom.

Approaching two feet down, we encountered a mix of gray clay and brown peat. The peat was filled with tiny white fossil shells. This discovery inspired all kinds of conjecture, such as the possibility that it traveled here from some far away place like Alaska on the current of an underground river. Later, this became more than a possibility when we dug deeper and watched as water instantly rushed into the hole, collapsing the sides. The situation was so impossible that I was reminded of the scenes from the HBO mini series "Pacific" where the Marines are slogging through the mud in a God forsaken jungle. Only there was no gunfire, but' there could have been mosquitoes', I reminded my son, trying to put a better spin on things.

Another fantasy that I have had about the bog is that someday I will dig down and discover a woolly mammoth, which will make me rich and famous and I'll be able to buy all the perennials that my heart desires. After my foot got stuck in the muck several times, causing my son to have to pull me out by the arm, that fantasy had a scary reality to it. So, if I don't show up for Gallery In The Garden, look for me down there...a fossil among fossils.

May 5, 2010

If I say this, people will think I'm a tad off. Actually, I prefer the word "eccentric" as it denotes an interesting mind and some of the most fascinating people I've known were in this group. What I have to say is, THE BABIES HAVE BEEN BORN!, that is...my grass seeds have sprouted. You see, I've come to think of them this way. I spread them in a prepared place, covered them with peat moss and faithfully sprinkled them everyday. Isn't that the definition of Motherhood?

My Mother, who was the best gardener I've ever known used to talk to her plants. I would come home from school, look for her in the house, then eventually find her in the garden bending over some plant, speaking words of encouragement. I thought that it was a little nuts,yet endearing and here I am, more like my Mom than I care to admit. However, who can argue with success as her garden flourished. Neighbors would bring their sickly house plants to her for the green thumb of healing or ask for advice about their garden. Well, that is happening too. The guy from two doors down stopped by to ask if I would help him with some ideas for his yard. Flattering yes,but little does he know of my benign neglect style of gardening. For the novice gardener seeking advice, I can be all about the big scheme, the details can't be described, only experienced personally.

I owe much of my garden to the generosity of other women who gave me starts from their plants, especially Susan. However, I should have been suspicious when, she got that evil glint in her eye and said, "Come on Deb, don't you want some of this red stuff?" I've been trying to get rid of it every since. Mom gave me the first starts for my first garden, which in those days was a little patch of rocky dirt between two condominiums, right by the dumpster. Some Blue Bells, Trillium, Ferns and other wild flowers. No plants have ever been as precious to me and when I moved to Woodstock, they came too, as important as any keepsake. Although Mom is gone now, she is always with me among the flowers.

Happy Mother's Day!

April 20, 2010

The only person more chronically hopeful than a Cub fan is a gardener. It seems ridiculous that I can't successfully grow a lawn, but here I am spreading those grass seeds thinking that this time will be the charm.and I'll have a dense, luxurious lawn. Shade and dogs are the mortal enemies of this yard and that won't change, so we'll see.

In the meantime, the tree trimmer removed four trees and I'm having to deal with everybody's favorite nemesis...change. Since childhood when my Dad would have trees cut down, I've hated the idea. I would leave the neighborhood rather than witness this 'execution'. So when it comes to pruning, I have a problem. I am trying to view the loss of these trees as an interesting opportunity. Now all I need is to match a vision to this change. Not enough credit is given to good tree trimmers. This guy cut the trees and dropped them to within inches of my fence and various shrubs, never so much as breaking a twig or smashing a flower.

Two gals from the Woodstock Business and Professional Women group dropped by to see the garden. This organization puts on a garden walk every year with the admission fee of $15 going toward college scholarships. Six gardens are featured and the event takes place June 17 with my garden being one of them. I was appalled that they would see the garden while everything is in process. Most plants haven't broken ground, not all the beds have been cleaned up and worst of all...the bog garden is still torn up because now that I've finally figured out how to build a curving boardwalk, I realize I can't afford the cost. I decided that for this year, I'm going to stick with the walk I have and build a low split rail fence alongside it. Now that I've made this decision, I'm very excited to get started.

Having found a solution for improving the bog garden, I went shopping yesterday at my favorite perennial nursery to purchase some new plants and I was very surprised to find that there were very few on display. "What is going on?" I asked myself. Oh, yes. This is only the middle of April, things are not supposed to look great in the garden and after all it really is too soon to be planting most things. In spite of the ever tricky Mother Nature throwing some 80 degrees our way, there still are some frosty nights. Patience Cub fan/gardener Deb.

April 8, 2010

Hello friends of Gallery In The Garden.

Well, April showers are bringing flowers, also dandelions and lots of work. A visit to the yard at this time of year is so depressing and I have to constantly remind myself what it will look like this summer. This year will be challenging, because I am going to remodel the center of the garden where the bog is and I only have a glimmer of a vision as to how it will look when finished.

A little bit of history about the garden might explain. When we moved here in 1999, there was nothing in the yard except mature trees. On moving day it poured rain – 7 inches actually – and the next morning my son Rob said, "Mom you need to see this, there are ducks swimming in your backyard." As it turned out, our yard is the lowest point in the neighborhood and the old timers report that cattails used to grow here. To make matters worse, a spring runs right through this low point.

It is best not to argue with Mother Nature, rather to go with the flow, so to speak, and I decided to create a pond and bog garden in that spot. A neighbor's huge willow tree helps with much of the moisture, but even in summer my foot can sink in the soil in that area. The problem is that the boardwalk I originally built surrounding the bog isn't working out and I need to design one that holds up to the task and has a more organic shape, in other words: How do I make it curve and not sink?

For me, gardening is more than dropping seeds in a hole – it is three-dimensional art. The conditions dictate the original design and there are considerations of color, texture and shapes playing against one another. Then there are themes, both big and small, less obvious. Lots of things fail and I never know why, so my ideas must adjust. There is much more creative control in painting and photography, so maybe this experience is much more about learning to let go, than holding fast to a plan.

This much I know for sure, when I garden, when my hands are in the soil, it is also my meditation.

More to follow,
Deb