ROCKWALL, TX (June 4, 2023) Mother Nature has treated us kindly with a stunning spring garden season. We have been granted regular rains and an abundance of moderate, pleasant weather. The garden is exceptionally lovely, brimming with color this year.
Perennials come into their own on the third year. The Mildscape has reached that third year. Plants have established and filled in with lush confidence. Not all make it, it’s never a sure thing. If they are still here, they have certainly rooted and spring forth with confidence. Rising through the soil, sprouting green shoots and round mounds, with promises of flora. I watch eagerly for signs of blooming, and then wowie! One day the buds have burst into brilliant, splashy flowers. I have fertilized, nurtured, weeded, staked, and protected. My verdant prizes stand proud, mound comfortably, reach far beyond their allotted space. It’s the cycle of all the worthwhile things that we put our hearts into.
I am in an awe of what develops in the smallest patch, with good soil, seeds or seedlings, sore knees, and dirty hands. I’m certain the sweat of my brow has particularly rich growth hormones, my garden certainly receives that bounty! I dig, snip, learn from mistakes and from successes, sit on the garden bench and take it all in. I never tire of the vibrant scene that dances in front of my eyes. The garden holds peace, satisfaction, aggravation, determination, utter joy, delight, obsession, wonder. It’s just so good.
We left town for two days this past weekend, returning late afternoon, on Sunday. I will swear on a stack of Neil Sperry books that the burgeoning plants flourished by inches while we were away. Blooms seemed brighter. The tree rose that I had deadheaded after its first bloom, put out scads of new buds in the past week. They opened into vivid blossoms while we were gone for that short period.
Before heading out of town, we attended the awards ceremony at my granddaughter’s middle school. Staff notified her parents that she would be receiving an award. We were delighted, thrilled, awed as she received ten awards that day. Just yesterday she was a little pixie, creeping out of bed in the early morning to go to my craft room to cut and paste creations with little plastic scissors and a glue stick, dumping glitter into the carpeting, and reading books under the covers with a flashlight, after being tucked in at night. Suddenly, she is on the brink of entering high school, headed for a scholastic tour of New York and Washington D.C. this summer, as well as Kentucky to represent Texas in National Spelling Bee. She has thrived and blossomed, and more blooms form as she grows, participates, achieves. It happens so quickly. Her little brother’s awards ceremony is this week at the elementary school. We have watched him shoot up as well, with a sharp brain and a wit of his own. I am eager to see what is bearing fruit in his cosmos. Parents plant, nurture, do the hard work; grandparents nurture and enjoy the blooming. It’s just so good.
I had help mulching the garden last week. With my multitude of plantings, it is no easy task to navigate, and I’m thankful the job is done. Summer heat is imminent, weeds are developing under the thick mulch, baby grasshoppers are quickly growing into greedy monsters to devour tender leaves and blooms. I will weed out unwanted creepers, feed the flowers, fight the good fight against pests, water sufficiently. The work is ongoing in the garden. Another task awaits nearly every day.
The rewards are endless.
Sally Kilgore is a resident of Fate, Texas, transplanted from Rowlett, across the lake. She is married to her long-time flame, Judge Chris Kilgore, (aka The B.O.B.) When not writing, gardening, filling in at the local flower shop or hanging out with grandkids, Sally devotes her time to serving Bob Kilgore, a well sized, Tuxedo cat with panache.