Sunday, June 19, 2005
Well, she's good for SOMETHING
Mothers-in-law. Feh. My MIL and I have always resided on completely different planes of existence. These two planes very rarely intersect. But... I've always admired her way with a garden.
Her back yard is a rambling, shambling mess of roses, hollyhocks, primroses, shade trees, vines and creepers, and assorted pretties that she finds at garden centers and brings home to let run to riot. I love her garden because its the antithesis of planning and forethought. If I were to try to duplicate it, I would fail miserably. It's just a comfortable, informal space that people actually like to hang out in. There are twinkle lights in the trees, and a couple of fountains, and two porch swings, and the entire yard is dripping with dangling, twirling geegaws that catch the breeze or dance in the sunlight. My son loves it. This last trip home, the family gathered out on the back porch and drank and talked late into the night. My husband and I wandered around and smooched among the Agapanthus(es?) after it got dark.
She always sends me home with cuttings or seeds or full-grown plants, which I have horrible to moderate success with. Yesterday, she sent me home with Sweet Dumpling squash seeds, three volunteer tomato plants from her pepper pots and a volunteer squash from her compost heap, and a shit-load more cuttings from her pink primroses, since I've been pretty lucky with those so far. She also sent me home with a mesh onion bag full of "naked ladies" (Amaryllis belladonna). We'll see how those weather out here in the desert...
We'll probably never see eye-to-eye on anything, and are probably destined to drive each other crazy for the rest of our days, but we've found a peaceable kingdom in her back yard, with my son--her grandson--flitting about from pot to dirt pile to fountain to pot, and she and I companionably digging up pieces of this and that, a handing-down of plants and green wisdom, all arguments and petty squabbling set aside for at least one afternoon.
Her back yard is a rambling, shambling mess of roses, hollyhocks, primroses, shade trees, vines and creepers, and assorted pretties that she finds at garden centers and brings home to let run to riot. I love her garden because its the antithesis of planning and forethought. If I were to try to duplicate it, I would fail miserably. It's just a comfortable, informal space that people actually like to hang out in. There are twinkle lights in the trees, and a couple of fountains, and two porch swings, and the entire yard is dripping with dangling, twirling geegaws that catch the breeze or dance in the sunlight. My son loves it. This last trip home, the family gathered out on the back porch and drank and talked late into the night. My husband and I wandered around and smooched among the Agapanthus(es?) after it got dark.
She always sends me home with cuttings or seeds or full-grown plants, which I have horrible to moderate success with. Yesterday, she sent me home with Sweet Dumpling squash seeds, three volunteer tomato plants from her pepper pots and a volunteer squash from her compost heap, and a shit-load more cuttings from her pink primroses, since I've been pretty lucky with those so far. She also sent me home with a mesh onion bag full of "naked ladies" (Amaryllis belladonna). We'll see how those weather out here in the desert...
We'll probably never see eye-to-eye on anything, and are probably destined to drive each other crazy for the rest of our days, but we've found a peaceable kingdom in her back yard, with my son--her grandson--flitting about from pot to dirt pile to fountain to pot, and she and I companionably digging up pieces of this and that, a handing-down of plants and green wisdom, all arguments and petty squabbling set aside for at least one afternoon.
Comments:
Post a Comment
