It's Not Pretty

Garden reconstruction sure ain't a pretty sight, is it?

 Plants dug out and sitting around waiting for new homes, rocks on the move, tools everywhere.  But change is necessary and can be good.  (That's what I keep telling myself, anyway.)  We're digging and moving and I was going to post a bunch of pictures of the process, but then Geraldine came to mind.
 
For several years, Geraldine was an annual garden visitor who would drop in unannounced to see the gardens. She lived about three miles from us in town and was in her late 80's when I first met her, though like my mother, she looked much younger.   She had that 'Attitude of Gratitude' about her, remember everyone-- Attitude is Everything.

We had hosted a garden walk for the local  nursing home some five or six (maybe seven) years ago and had the place all spruced up for the occasion at the time.  First impressions mean a lot (that's what I tell my sons all the time).  Apparently, we made a good first impression on Geraldine, because after that first visit she made it her Mission to bring as many of her friends, family and acquaintances with her to see the gardens as she could several times a year.  She was the chauffeur and  would bring a carload of people out, turn them loose and then remain in her car in the shade.  She was 90-something by this time and was tired of walking.   Besides, she'd already seen the flowers four or five times in any given year.

I'd always go and chat with her, leaning against her car door while her entourage toured the gardens with Carl or Joel as guides.  If one of the folks would stray back to the car while we were visiting, Geraldine would put a hand on my arm to silence me gently.  Then she would say, "Dorothy, did you see the lilies in that back garden?  Aren't they gorgeous?  Oh, you didn't?  Well, just follow that path over there and turn left, you really mustn't miss them."

Dorothy (who probably wasn't all that into flowers) gazed wistfully at the waiting car and shrugged as she slowly made her way back to the Lily Trail.  No entrance to the bus until you've seen it All.  That was Geraldine's motto.  I often wondered if there was a pop quiz on the way home. 

We'd be out in the garden working only to look up and find three or four people staring at us.  Don't get me wrong, Geraldine asked me repeatedly if it was OK to bring people out here and I gave her complete permission; I could never have asked for a more staunch garden admirer and supporter.  She made me feel as if I was doing something Important and Useful instead of doing something Insane & Useless as a few other people like to point out. (We have had people question our sanity when it comes to the rocks.  The main question is a short one, "Why?") 

There was one time I disappointed Geraldine, though.  And I don't mean just a little.  I disappointed her big time.  And it was this time of year, early May.  We were in the middle of tearing up or putting in something, I don't remember what, and the place was a wreck, just like it is now.  Luckily, Geraldine came out alone that day.

I met her as she was making her way carefully through the tractors and trailers and rock equipment.  Her first words to me that year were, "What happened?!  It's not Pretty!!"

I felt so ashamed,  poor Geraldine was truly bewildered and very upset.  WHAT had we done to her garden?  I assured her the prettiness would reappear just as soon as possible and not to worry.  She looked at me closely to see if I was pulling her leg and asked for a time frame.  I said, "Well, if you can give us until July, then the annuals will be blooming and things should be straightened out around here."

"That long?"  She gazed about her in complete dismay.  "Well, I guess I'll just have to wait, then," she sighed.  She patted me on my arm and dejectedly made her way back to her car.  I thought that was the last time I'd ever see Geraldine.

But I was wrong.  One afternoon in July I was out working in the flowers when I looked up and there she was, standing in the back yard, looking around intently.  As I was approaching her to say hello, she raised her hand to stop me.

"Hello, Karen, now you just stay there, I don't want to interrupt your work.   I'll be right back," and she hurried back to the driveway and her carload of tourists.  I followed along anyway, and heard her excited exclamation:

"It's OK everyone, you can get out now.   I checked.  It's Pretty again!"

Oh, Geraldine, I'm waiting for that day, too.  



Sadly, I learned Geraldine passed away last April at the age of 94.  When July rolled around and we hadn't seen her, I found out why.  I would have loved to pay my respects.  She was a wonderful lady, and I miss her very, very much.