As the time in the garden spent doing chores and maintenance slides slowly downhill, room opens in an obsessive mind for wandering. Doors of what could be, what might be possible are opened with free floating randomness.
Magazine photos, hard cover books, words of description written by those talented gardeners from long ago and yes, of course, blogs play games of musical chairs inside the miasma of the mind. Which flashbulb will fire at which moment to embed the thought that will become the next project is up to the fates.
That is how the Fairegarden came to be, this particular incarnation on this particular plot in this particular latitude and longitude that shows on a GPS device. Static it is not, for a garden is a living organism, affected by millions of events, from insect and bird activity pollinating and planting seeds to the whims of the weather gods striking down previous plantings with drought or cold.
Enter the human hand, driven by a compulsion to remake the scenery in order to fit a picture that emerges when eyelids close. It is sculpting with spade, shovel and pickaxe. It is the laying of paint with seeds, cuttings, root divisions and pots of purchases. It is editing with the removal of unwanteds, failure to thrives and just plain mistakes.
Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, months, years and now a decade have passed since a freshly cleared and wall to wall mulched slope began to receive the first offerings. The Noah’s Ark that was brought from the previous Fairegarden in Texas was placed inground following the pattern of sketches made and remade while waiting for the land to be cleared and terraced by heavy machines and strong backed men.
The largest growing things went in first, so they could begin the long road to maturity both above and below. Lines of living privacy were drawn around the perimeter, providing the sense of enclosure that is lacking in an inner city subdivision. Paths and stairways came next to provide access for working and perusing. A water feature was located taking advantage of the natural slope and within sight and hearing from inside the house and the planned patio area.
Time. One word. There are many other things that go into the creation of a garden, that place unique to all others, but all pales before the ongoing unstoppable force of change brought about by the passage of time.
The point, dear readers, is to encourage the striving, the planning, the learning, the study of every square inch of earth to see what can be gleaned to be put to use in the creation of the vision of your dreams. It is a journey, not a destination. There is no end to it, it can never be finished but it can be improved. It is neither a race nor a contest to be won. It is personal, as different for each individual as their thumbprint. And so we leave you with this thought: Onward.