Thursday, 14 April 2011

Five Summers, Not Five Minutes

I'm an impatient gardener.

I want the ideas I have in my head translated to reality NOW.  And with the minimum of effort on my part.  I sigh when I look at all the jobs I have to do and how slow progress seems to be with all my various "projects" - most of them only half done.

Sometimes Nature just reminds me: all that is needed is time for the vision to become reality.

When we arrived five summers ago, there was a scrubby, stubby bush to one side of the lawn smothered in weeds. Full of dead or dying wood, it didn't look much.  There were a few reddish sticks with variegated leaves which helped me identify that it was a feeble cornus. So each spring I cut back the older stems, trimmed back the grass and weeds to let it breathe, dug out more of the dead stumps.

The bush is now at the centre of what will be a new bed of roses and wild orchids, with a small nectarine tree to one side.

This morning, as I walked back across the lawn towards the new bed, I suddenly realised: the scrubby, stubby old bush looks beautiful. Her silvery variegated leaves gleam in the morning sunlight.  Her red stems are long and straight and every tip holds a cluster of soon-to-be-opened flower buds.

It has taken five summers for her to reveal her full glory.

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