Virtually everything in my garden is a gift from someone who had too much or was moving or just wanted to share. Incorporated in these gifts are stories. This is the first year in my garden for the beautiful dark Iris; they come by way of Kristen who got them from Quentin who got them from his grandmother. Kristen’s marriage ended and the house was being sold.
The little cherry tree, as you can see, is surviving. Earlier I posted a piece that showed it with barely a hint of life. This tree was a gift from Linda and David for our marriage; it’s a Tidal Basin Cherry of the original stock from American Heritage Nurseries. David died of cancer in late January and I’ve been hoping and praying that this little tree would make it. Although it’s a cluttered cottage garden I do plan- some- where I put things. Next year I’ll clear out around the cherry tree; it’s where it can grow tall because maybe someday it will have to take over the job of our beautiful birch.
I have Foxglove from my push-pull sister and a Bleeding Heart from my grandmother that has survived a dozen moves through campus apartments and starter homes. The oil drum crow is from Zimbabwe and the donation went to support the village where it was made. There is a little family of Carolina Wrens living in the birdhouse below.They are getting ready to fledge. If I think about moving from here I wonder how hard it would be to dig up all this history and love and pleasure and move it somewhere else. That’s enough to give me pause.