at home
Saturday, 15 June 2024
Overnight, I had heard some rain, and the rain barrels had either refilled or (in the case of one that was way low) mostly refilled…
…although, strangely, the red and yellow rain gauges showed no sign of rain.
While pondering some aspects of the meaning of life, I turned to the therapeutic activity of compost sifting, but then was thinking so hard that I forgot to photograph one of the most full and beautiful wheelbarrows of finely sifted compost that I have ever made, so all I can show is the places where I put the lovely stuff.
In the garden today:
The frog bog is almost empty now, normal for mid-June.
Crinodendron hookerianum in bloom:
A semi miniature rose which a volunteer long ago planted in a Long Beach planter, and which I got a start of, makes about a half sized rose here (much smaller in the planter).
My mom’s “copper rose” likes its new spot, moved when we curvified a path:
Paul’s Himalayan Musk rose still looks amazing and still has new flowers coming out. The old ones are fading to almost white and the new ones are pink.
I hadn’t gotten it together to arrange a garden open day, mostly because I didn’t think folks would want to come so soon after the end of May garden open…too bad Paul blooms about a week after that event is over!
Sunday, 16 May 2024
In the morning, I heard from an old friend that another old friend, Gary, was dying, in hospice care at home, having suddenly fallen ill in pain, not entirely lucid and diagnosed (after refusing extensive testing) as suffering from “failure to thrive”. Gary is someone I haven’t seen for almost a quarter of a century but for whom I still have the fondest feelings. One comfort was that my friend who had called me told me that Gary and his longtime partner had wanted me to know about the situation because I meant so much to them. Flabbergasted, I replied, “I thought [because they knew me at my absolute worst time in my life, not a pretty time at all] that they were glad to see the last of me.” “No,” she said, laughing a bit with sympathy at what I had thought, “it was just that you were so hard to reach.” (Which is true, when we left Seattle we moved three times in 18 months and for all that time did not have a phone.) This just filled my heart up even though I also felt heartbreak; my old friend who is dying is only 72. An example of his friendship: Years ago, before I moved here, I had a cat with an abscess that needed cleaning daily, which was difficult to manage on my own. My friend showed up every night at 9 PM to help me treat the wound. That is a real friend (and cat lover).
Just before I had the phone call, I’d had a message from our good local friend Tony asking if he and his husband, Scott, could bring some friends to see the garden today. I said yes, yes please do, and was so glad they did. I got to meet “The Jeffs”, new peninsulites about whom I’d heard such good things, and the Jeffs’ friend Peter from Denver, previously from Germany, and Cynthia, a neighbour of Scott and Tony.
We moved from the semi-shady fire circle seating area to the sunnier lawn next to the patio.
It was tremendously comforting to be surrounded by these delightful people for the afternoon, and later to be complimented by Tony for me and Allan being “engaging” and “keepers”. So sweet to have all this affection on a sad day. Peter had marvellous stories to tell about his youth and the Jeffs were just darling, as I had expected, and Cynthia was funny and delightful and said it was the most beautiful garden she had ever seen. Peter said he lives across from the Denver Botanical Garden and visits it often and that ours is better. I am a huge fan from afar of the DBG, have looked at many photos, and know that our is not a patch on it, but I liked hearing that anyway. In the same way, when someone who visited our garden at Klipsan Beach Cottages and who lived near Dan Hinkley’s Heronswood said it was as good as Heronswood, I knew that was far from accurate but still feel well chuffed about that moment. My confidence is generally quite low, so moments like that count for a lot.
It was also nice for Paul’s Himalayan Musk rose to get an afternoon of admiration when I had denied having a proper garden open for him! He had put on an extra special show by having Clematis ‘Etoile Violette’ suddenly display purple flowers among the pink.
People asked Allan what this flower bud was, while I was elsewhere in the garden. It is dracunculus vulgaris, which I have a few of around the garden, and its a good thing it was not in full bloom, because the flowers do smell like rotten meat.
Tony took lots of photos which will close out this post of sadness and happiness.
You can, of course, click on the galleries to embiggen the photos.
It was an emotional day of downs and ups and treasured friends old, lost, and new. I am adding The Jeffs’ new garden up in Ocean Park to my must visit list.
