Keep Trying

People are complicated, come from different backgrounds, and have different experiences, so there are many things to disagree about. Argument is a perfectly legitimate form of human communication. Violence is not, yet we seem to go there all the time. There are more sad news stories today than I can, or want to, recount. I went to the garden for solace and there I found the bleeding hearts still blooming. Bleeding hearts came to North America from China, where they’re called purse peonies. Different ways of looking at things.

I still have a few regular peonies, too. Earlier this month the large and beautiful peony garden in Ann Arbor was assaulted, hundreds of its innocent flowers cut off and thrown to the ground. Flyers left behind announced this as a political act but it looked like spite. Did someone really expect the fallen flowers would bring allies to their cause?

The garden is much better at forming alliances. Here’s a bumblebee visiting my baptisia, where she will use her weight to open the flower, something smaller bees can’t do. Baptisia and bumblebees have worked out a deal. No manifestos were created, no weapons fired, the bee presumably her own ambassador.

The milkweed, still in bud, has a deal with monarch butterflies. When it blooms they’ll pollinate it, and in return its leaves will supply munching monarch caterpillars with a poison that keeps predators away, an alliance of mutual benefit. Poison can be considered a weapon, but for the monarch the point is deterrence. There is no wisdom in the mutually assured destruction of having your predator die after it eats you. 

There’s certainly struggle in the garden. The ferns have moved in so far onto the path through the woods, I’m going to have to pull some out. But when I do I’ll transplant them to the front yard, under the pine trees. I expect they will thrive in the mulchy shade there, where the grass is unhappy. Plants, like people, have different needs, sometimes hard to figure out. The least we can do is try.

Good Wishes

b festiva maximaThe forget-me-nots have gone to seed and the late asparagus spears have grown tall and branched into ferns, but the Michigan spring continues to overwhelm me with beauty and drama. This peony, though it’s originally an heirloom bred 150 years ago in France, is nevertheless called Festiva Maxima, which is Latin for Big Party. It produces lots of flowers in conditions where other peonies pout. Definitely a party girl, not a wallflower.

b bowl of beautyIn the even showier department, this one’s called Bowl of Beauty. The outer petals are more curved than they look in my photo, so yes, quite bowl-like.

b cloudy skyFor drama, how about this sky? I was assured there was no threat of tornado, but it sure looked like it had something up its sleeve. Not even rain, as it turned out. Just drama.

b cloverNo rain so no rainbow so no pot of gold, but a plot of good fortune. They don’t always leap out at me, but I have two clumps of clover in my garden that regularly produced four-leaf clovers last year. They’ve come through again. One four-leafer lurks deep in the center of this photo.

b pathThen there’s mystery – this little path that looks like it goes somewhere magical, or at least interesting. Nope. It goes to my hose bib. Appearances can be deceiving; in fact, in a garden, we often aim for that. In Japanese gardening tradition this is called Borrowed Landscape. My lawn fades into my neighbor’s lawn before you get to that fence.

b clover leavesAnd so we have it all here – beauty, drama, fortune, intrigue. I’ve been out in it all day, weeding, planting, staking, and of course spraying deer deterrent. When I find a four-leaf clover I bring it in, put it in a vase until it withers, then make a wish and add it to my “luck basket.” Still the same wish, and I can’t say what it is but we’ll all be very happy if it comes true.