Cultivating Patience with a Brand New Garden

I need a headlamp. Last night, around 9 pm, I doggedly continued layering newspapers (the Wall Street Journal, given a second life) on a new flower bed, and then topping those newspapers with mulch. But while I could appreciate the layered puzzle pieces of the tree branches silhouetted against the night sky, my own activities were stymied by the close of day. So, bemoaning the lack of headgear that would allow me to continue puttering about, I left the garden for the night.

Daffodils and jonquils alike spill across the farm.

My profession allows me to see many a garden, and I’m always thrilled when I get to visit an old home site, with rambling roses, and old fashioned shrubs, and peonies with blooms as big as my head.

There are a few iris mixed in with the bulbs.

I’ve often dreamed about becoming the caretaker of an old garden – but that is not how I would describe my latest venture. The house has thankfully retained almost all its original finishes, but save for some wonderful old trees, and daffodils, the yard around the house is sorely lacking even the remnant of a historic garden or plantings – there is not a single shrub.

I was happy to discover some Dames Rocket blooming away on the old railroad bed that runs through our farm.

Contrary to my nature,  I’m not rushing in – too much. With about three acres around the farmhouse, I’ve plenty of space to accommodate all of my gardening dreams. And I know I need to figure out where the sun and shade will be, and map out out a landscape plan. Planning means pouring over garden books, and that is almost as good as digging in the dirt.

Pots are…keeping me in check.

For now, I am sticking –  mostly – to the spaces in front of the porch, on either side of the front steps  – perfect flower beds with southern exposure. Before we moved in, my middle sister turned over the sod in one of the beds, so I could deposit the plant divisions I was bringing over from my former garden.

I’ve been attacking the other bed for the past week – and that verb is most appropriate. Last night, I dug up the biggest poke plant root I have ever seen in my life – and that side of the porch would also perhaps qualify as an archaeological site given the amount of trash I have unearthed.

Not a flower, but a friendly Summer Tanager likes to visit me on the porch – and perch on Judge Winn’s plant stand.

Pots, crammed with annuals, are also keeping my frenetic gardening energy at bay. And then of course there is the poison ivy that must be eradicated…because I’ve really tolerated all of the concerned looks I can take in the last week when people happen to see my arms (and then they subtly move a little  bit further away, because urushiol tends to waft on the air).

More pots! I’ve ticked some sweet potato vine in with the pansies, in anticipation of their wilting in the summer heat, and having to be replaced with some hardier plants.

But I have planted a few shrubs, including my bridal wreath spirea, which I dug up in the snow in March and moved to the farm. My shrub is a division of the ethereally lovely early-blooming shrub I grew up with – and that shrub my mother got from a division of her mother’s spirea, on their farm in Mercer County.

The ancestors of my spirea can be seen at the end of the walk in this snowy scene.

There’s plenty of room for forsythia to throw itself about in wild, gaudy abandon, so I’ve planted one of that gorgeous yellow bringer of spring. I couldn’t resist planting a purple lilac, close enough to the porch for its sweet perfume to be enjoyed. And to attract the butterflies, one butterfly bush (Black Knight).

My lilac has a beautiful shape.

The arbor has been erected, and a transplanted zephirine drouhin and one transplanted rose of the same variety will one day clamor over.

The arbor, which stood in my the garden of my husband’s family home, is planted and will soon be covered (I hope) with roses.

Then there are opportunistic weeds, already causing havoc – and I haven’t even gotten the tomato plants in the ground yet! But I was recently gifted a stack of garden books, so as soon as the next rain comes…I plan on cultivating patience and planning this fledgling garden.