9 September 2002

My Garden

My garden is in seventh heaven with the slow drizzle we’ve had pretty much all day.  Actually I don't

mind the rain as it beats all the mud we’d have if we were in Philo with this kind of rain.  The flowers around Senlis are looking so good:  roses of every color, marigolds and loads of wildflowers.

There are flowers with the tiniest yellow and purple blossoms that just grow right out of the ancient stone walls.  I never grow tired of walking around the town and looking at the window boxes that seem to be underlining every window in every house.

To me having a garden here is a gift.  My entire life I have dreamed of gardens.  When it’s winter I dream of the seed catalogs arriving and all of the planning for spring.  When the seeds are finally sown I dream of how they will grow.  I practically wish those little seeds into plants.  As I sow them I can visualize how luscious they will become in full bloom with flowers or fruits or vegetables.

Rarely do I achieve my goal.  After all the clay in Ohio requires so much assistance to produce that I often give up.  Most of the time my garden is either rotting from the soggy weather and water saturated clay or the weeds have taken over and look far better then my cultivated plants.

Imagine my excitement when I turned over the first shovel of dirt in the yard and discovered rich loose humus.  The dirt in the garden is the stuff they we all drool over in ORGANIC GARDENING MAGAZINE.  Even Martha Stewart would be jealous of the stuff in this little patch.

My fantasy has come true.  With lots of digging and cultivating my darling husband and I have created a real garden.  Of course it doesn’t look like the rows and rows of vegetables and flowers I see in Philo gardens.  But it has a real purpose:  to produce vegetables and flowers.  More importantly it is a source of calm as we sit on the glassed in porch and look out over the garden.

Of course I was quite relieved that we have a huge stone wall surrounding the garden as my husband decided the way to keep the birds out was to plant the rack upside down and place his wind breaker over it.  He finally confessed that the birds weren’t scared of it because it didn’t’ have any legs.

He was much more successful at keeping the birds out by merely sitting at his desk and as he periodically glanced up and would see the birds the loud clap of his hands sent them hurrying away.  It’s that personal touch that the French birds must like.

For today I am happy just to sit back and watch things grow.  I will be sad as the days grow shorter and I know that my garden will come to an end for this year.  But maybe if I am clever I can sustain the growth season with bales of hay and plastic to protect the things that manage to hang on in spite of the cold weather that will come.