Is it true that we all think of our gardens as the prettiest, the most peaceful places in our lives ? I guess I am a hopeless romantic, because my garden IS the purest place I go to ... even over church. It is just as it was created by my efforts and other forces greater than mine. It always renews my sense of hope in one way or another. So what if the chipmunks ate my tulip bulbs? They left the Star of Bethlehem alone and now it pokes through and pops open in a blaze of white. That is cause for a happy exclamation.
A brave little Japanese maple pushes up and out of a small niche in the brick edging and I hesitate to pull it out. It will surely undermine the bricks of the terrace, but it has struggled and survived the winter. Surely, I can let it go a bit longer before I must transplant it. After all, it sits in its mother's shadow and no mother wants her children uprooted and yanked away too quickly.
Besides, nature has been kind to me this Spring. The winds have not broken off my favorite of all perennials ... the Dicentra alba ... white bleeding heart. The plant is getting large and has sent out a dozen graceful floral columns. I credit the maple for shielding it ... that and the brick wall of the terrace. It's getting the right dappled light and is sheltered from too much wind and traffic.
I need to let that little Japanese maple stay put for a bit longer ... one good turn deserves another, don't you think?