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Resurrecting the Garden -- and the Gardener

© Carol Wallace

Only two weeks ago, following ten weeks of drought, I declared my hydrangea petiolaris dead. Yesterday, as I took my pruning shears to remove the unsightly canes with their dead, crisp leaves, I found a surprise. Beneath that brown dead matter were new green shoots.

This is not the first occasion when benign neglect (or out-and-out forgetfulness) has resurrected a plant that might, were I quicker with the pruning shovel, have become compost. The first year we lived in this house I planted a trumpet vine because I heard how attractive they are to hummingbirds. The trouble is, I planted it on the shady side of a maple tree, among all of the tree's roots. I saw about six inches of it, then never saw it again — until two years ago, when it suddenly sprang out of its slumber, climbed about 6 feet and put out a flower. I had forgotten it was there.

Sometimes, I guess, plants need to take a bit of a rest and store up their energy before they really perform. Just like gardeners do.

Just like that hydrangea, I'm getting a bit shriveled around the edges. If I get down to the ground (not nearly as deeply as the plants do) it takes me a while to spring up and, even then, I don't bloom, except with sweat.

I sometimes think my tools are more useful as levers to pry myself up with than as devices for prying rocks and digging holes. And, as the eyes age, I find that I spend more time looking for my tools than using them. Or I did, up until this summer.

Early in the summer I lost my mattock. My mattock is my one indispensible tool because it digs holes, chops through roots, prys rocks and almost anything else I need to do. So, instead of prying, digging and slicing, I spent two days peering under branches and rocks looking for my favorite tool. Finally, I gave up and headed for the garden supply store. The only mattock left was a much larger, heavy duty version of my old one. It was heavier and bigger than any tool I owned. But I was desperate. I bought it.

At the same time, I bought a can of flourescent spray paint. When I got home I sprayed the handles of every garden tool I own a glowing pink. Not the most aesthetic choice, but a highly visible one. And then I took my day-glo tools and began some serious gardening to make up for lost time.

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