Putting Down Roots

The artist Nikolai Astrup wrote, “Last night I planted a large apple tree above the new turf wall and sat for a long while in the semi-dark and observed ‘the work of my hands’ and I thought I could feel that I had begun to be fond of the place.”

At each of the three houses I have lived in over the last 3 decades I have planted perennial gardens. Then, just when they were beginning to flourish, I moved away. Therefore, when I returned to the Berkshires and moved into what I hope will be my home for the rest of my life, I planted shortly after I moved in.

Planting a garden is, literally, putting down roots. It is a demonstration of faith in relationships – between you and the surrounding landscape, you and the plantings, and you and the climate/environment. You believe that if you water and nurture your plants, guard against the animals, insects and diseases that threaten them, and make changes when they need more or less sun or a location that better shows off their blossoms, they will reward you with beauty year after year. Like all relationships, they are both fulfilling and frustrating.  

I know people who love every aspect of gardening, but I hate weeding. I remember at one house when I began weeding on one side of the front door it seemed as though the weeds had grown back by the time I got around the house to the other side. Like housecleaning, I view weeding as an opportunity to provide someone with paid employment.

I have also planted fruit trees at my previous houses, each of which was a gift from my parents. Now that they are gone, I miss being able to point to “their” tree and know that part of them will endure for generations.

As fall approaches, I am surveying my garden to see what new colors I can add. Heat waves and weeks of torrential rains have created spots to be filled. Like writing, I approach the task with trepidation and joy.