The Roses and The Goat

J finished our fence yesterday. The last picket painted, both gates hung with clasps locked in place. I still can't believe this garden is my own. A few days ago I planted the last rose bush and sat on our porch steps for a few minutes, soaking it all in. The gemini roses have come in strong, all peaches, creams and yellows are flourishing from the dark green gloss of stem and leaf. Just outside the north gate I planted a special variety of tea rose called "Moon Dance," its a beautiful white rose that smells of raspberries. The name, smell and color remind me of something Marilla Cuthbert would have grown prim and tidy in the Green Gables grove and a young Ann Shirley would have swooned over. Guarding the east gate are two large English Rose bushes, one is a very delicate yellow and the other an extremely bold pink. They look like two chaperones, watching over the beds of blue sage, salvia, ruellia, thyrallis and plumbago. At their feet, princess flowers and sweet pea vines cling to the pickets. I am slowly training the royal blue flowers of the sweat pea vine to blossom out towards the street. The durantas have grown by leaps and bounds this past December and are now blossoming once more with their small ribbons of deep purple flowers spilling out of nearly every branch. A definite "crowning glory" of this garden are the Lavender Floribunda roses. They smell like oranges and pink grapefruit, their scent rivals the confederate jasmines that live under the front bay window. The deep lavender hue of those petals are lovely, hopefully I can train these roses into a plump round shrub.

For a few more weeks I can enjoy the pansies and lavender. In another month or two the hydrangea bush will be in full bloom! My mother gave it to me for Easter last year and somehow the little plant not only lives still, but thrives! We generally don't have hydrangea below Orlando and even at that, its usually the oakleaf variety. This is a French Hydrangea, I've already tested the soil and doctored it so that we will have blue blossoms in March. My seedling have sprouted and are craning their heads towards the sun already. Lupine, Snapdragon, Poppies, Daisies, Forget-Me-Nots and Larkspur all gangly and awkward in the sunshine while the fully matured roses peer over at them, it feels a bit like a middle school dance in the northwest corner of the garden. The bursts of color from every plant are only growing more radiant with each passing week. Coupled with the fact that our tabebuia tree will be in full flowering splendor, I think Spring in my garden will look like a poem.

I spend every spare moment of my day in the garden. The Bear loves looking at the flowers and watching the bees and butterflies buzz and flutter. I love sitting out on the porch as twilight slips out from under our corner of the world. The scent of jasmine, rose and lavender soothes me and I feel extremely grateful for my wonderful, creative and mighty God. I feel safe inside this little fence, tending to plants with my hands and pouring my love and energy into something beautiful. 5 years ago, I lived in a hellish situation of fear and confusion, it was a truly painful time in my life and certain aspects of my personality died. Watching the garden at night, I feel a balm heavy on my heart and a slow growing resurrection of forgotten joys and pleasures.

Those are the wonderful things about the garden, but there are other things....

There is a slight danger involved with my garden that I might as well confess now. My nature is in possession of an eccentric streak that I struggle to keep dormant, but more often than not manifests itself in subtle ways at present but I know that when I grow old that eccentric streak will come alive and take over my personality (Lord help my husband). When I was younger, I wanted to live somewhere remote, completely alone, save for my books which I would be at leisure to read nonstop all day and of course, Atticus.

Atticus would be my old goat. I wanted to live alone, read books and adopt a goat. This goat would keep me company, I would walk him on a leash around the neighborhood, talk to him and try my best to be that crazy lady all the children are slightly afraid of but who always comes to the rescue at key moments of adventure. Insane, right? Yes. I really wanted that. Well, now that Prince Charming and my blue eyed angels have taken up residence in my heart, Atticus and the Crazy Lady Parade have dissipated into nothingness. However, the streak that created them in the first place still exists, and I am wondering if the goat will be replaced by the more domestic and palpable, Rose Garden. The Rose Garden will be my passion, even in the moment IS my passion. I'm sure I won't be scary without a menacing goat by my side, I will just be the very short, very round,very old woman, never without pruning scissors and always in the garden. But I still want to be a little bit crazy. I suppose I could give each plant a name according to their personality, would that qualify me for neighborhood loon? I hope so. J detests goats and my eccentric side must flourish somehow!

This first garden of mine is a definite step in the direction of elderly gardening loon. :)