Dirt is flying in Sunnybank’s secret garden.
But what’s happening this year behind its high walls marks a radical change for it, and me.
I must, of necessity, rethink everything. I had three huge hints over the last long, often difficult winter, that it’s time to adjust to new realities.
Ahead lies a big challenge- to give my secret garden a fresh, much simplified layout that is still lovely. For the last 23 years I’ve been happily wedded to this cherished spot for five of the loveliest months of every year. For 23 years the garden was First. Joe has been incredibly gracious about my dedication. I rarely left. I cared for it every single day, and found deep pleasure in tweaking dear plants that had special needs. Though enormously fulfilling, this sort of passion always extracts a price: our time to do other things together during gardening season didn’t happen often enough.
It will, now. We’re looking forward to lots of gentle summer adventures, away.
I’ve set a goal: to open on June 15, our 48th wedding anniversary, if all goes well.
Watch the sign on the front lawn for days and times to visit, as availability won’t be as regular as before. As before, ring to schedule larger tours.
Otherwise, simply pop in if the sign reads ‘Open.’
So, what’s changing, specifically? Well, I’m relocating the huge fountain well away from the 15-foot high Chamaecyparis shrub, which has nearly overtaken it. Its lovely golden branches would ruffle my shirt as I squeezed past the fountain pool to garden in another area. I grew to dislike crawling deep into and under its lush growth to reach the electric outlet.
When I planted this lovely shrub 15 years ago it barely reached my waist. Today, enormously fat, the elderly beauty towers ten feet above my head. It would be sinful to cut it down and impossible to move, so I’m shifting what I can.
But, as always, snags happen, just to keep life interesting.
My dear friend Les pulled out the pool, traced around its 50-inch girth in the new spot, set its fiberglass roundness to one side and began to dig a fresh, eight-inch deep hole. Our plan: spread in ten bags of pea gravel, level the bed, and then reset the fountain and pool into their new home. Simple, huh? Alas, no. I’d inadvertently selected the exact spot where a large snarl of multi-colored electric wires had been buried 20 years ago. Six large irrigation pipes were exposed as well, joining up here from all points of the garden in a complex tangle of elbows and angles. Our sharp shovels penetrated two of them before we realized what was happening.
Good thing the irrigation system hasn’t been activated yet. What a blast that would have been!
This situation was beyond my pay grade, so I rang Lautner Irrigation. Luckily, its irrigation manager was able to come immediately. He hopped into the hole and set to work relocating everything to an area adjacent to the pool’s new location. It was exacting work. Three hours later, though, things made sense. He covered his work, but just barely. “Leave this new arrangement exposed until the water’s turned on next week. If there are leaks or other problems, they’ll be easy to find.”
Large chunks of sod lie scattered about on the winter-worn grass; tons of chopped out roots, tools and tarps litter the area. Massive step stones have been collected and stacked beside the Chamaecyparis. Stone slabs and flowers will be relocated here, or passed on to friends and family. Five garden beds will go to grass.
I’ve removed all the iron fencing that once divided the garden into rooms. The Ram’s Head garden’s entrance pillars are gone. The beautiful little arbor we built fifteen years ago has been removed to sell. Soon I’ll have fashioned a large, open park bordered by flowers.
I’ve left the Brick-walled and Faerie Gardens as they were, as well as the front border gardens.
Some wag once commented that ‘the one constant in life is Change.’ Never mind: Change can be fun.
For me, it’s time to embrace it.
But what’s happening this year behind its high walls marks a radical change for it, and me.
I must, of necessity, rethink everything. I had three huge hints over the last long, often difficult winter, that it’s time to adjust to new realities.
Ahead lies a big challenge- to give my secret garden a fresh, much simplified layout that is still lovely. For the last 23 years I’ve been happily wedded to this cherished spot for five of the loveliest months of every year. For 23 years the garden was First. Joe has been incredibly gracious about my dedication. I rarely left. I cared for it every single day, and found deep pleasure in tweaking dear plants that had special needs. Though enormously fulfilling, this sort of passion always extracts a price: our time to do other things together during gardening season didn’t happen often enough.
It will, now. We’re looking forward to lots of gentle summer adventures, away.
I’ve set a goal: to open on June 15, our 48th wedding anniversary, if all goes well.
Watch the sign on the front lawn for days and times to visit, as availability won’t be as regular as before. As before, ring to schedule larger tours.
Otherwise, simply pop in if the sign reads ‘Open.’
So, what’s changing, specifically? Well, I’m relocating the huge fountain well away from the 15-foot high Chamaecyparis shrub, which has nearly overtaken it. Its lovely golden branches would ruffle my shirt as I squeezed past the fountain pool to garden in another area. I grew to dislike crawling deep into and under its lush growth to reach the electric outlet.
When I planted this lovely shrub 15 years ago it barely reached my waist. Today, enormously fat, the elderly beauty towers ten feet above my head. It would be sinful to cut it down and impossible to move, so I’m shifting what I can.
But, as always, snags happen, just to keep life interesting.
My dear friend Les pulled out the pool, traced around its 50-inch girth in the new spot, set its fiberglass roundness to one side and began to dig a fresh, eight-inch deep hole. Our plan: spread in ten bags of pea gravel, level the bed, and then reset the fountain and pool into their new home. Simple, huh? Alas, no. I’d inadvertently selected the exact spot where a large snarl of multi-colored electric wires had been buried 20 years ago. Six large irrigation pipes were exposed as well, joining up here from all points of the garden in a complex tangle of elbows and angles. Our sharp shovels penetrated two of them before we realized what was happening.
Good thing the irrigation system hasn’t been activated yet. What a blast that would have been!
This situation was beyond my pay grade, so I rang Lautner Irrigation. Luckily, its irrigation manager was able to come immediately. He hopped into the hole and set to work relocating everything to an area adjacent to the pool’s new location. It was exacting work. Three hours later, though, things made sense. He covered his work, but just barely. “Leave this new arrangement exposed until the water’s turned on next week. If there are leaks or other problems, they’ll be easy to find.”
Large chunks of sod lie scattered about on the winter-worn grass; tons of chopped out roots, tools and tarps litter the area. Massive step stones have been collected and stacked beside the Chamaecyparis. Stone slabs and flowers will be relocated here, or passed on to friends and family. Five garden beds will go to grass.
I’ve removed all the iron fencing that once divided the garden into rooms. The Ram’s Head garden’s entrance pillars are gone. The beautiful little arbor we built fifteen years ago has been removed to sell. Soon I’ll have fashioned a large, open park bordered by flowers.
I’ve left the Brick-walled and Faerie Gardens as they were, as well as the front border gardens.
Some wag once commented that ‘the one constant in life is Change.’ Never mind: Change can be fun.
For me, it’s time to embrace it.