Change is not a surprise to the gardener, nor is it something to fear. The first spring bloom of a pilfered--er, "rescued"--geranium is equally welcome whether it designates its parent plant as a Johnson's Blue or the more-coveted Rozanne. Summer's vegetable bounty fades just as the oakleaf hydrangea leaves begin to redden and blaze against the crisp autumn skies. The first snowfall is a wonder even if it comes before the garden is tidied for the winter.
I started gardening in earnest about 6 years ago, just after getting married and moving into my first real house. Part of my motivation for gardening was culinary... and part of it, I admit, was the artistic ego that all who garden for aesthetic reasons have to some degree. Since then, the garden has served as a welcome source of mental and physical exhaustion, a buffet of tastes and scents, a refuge in times of discontent, and so much more.
I said goodbye to my first garden, and to the college sweetheart I married, almost two years ago now. I have a new garden--and a new love--in my life. Both are proving to be more vibrant, variable, challenging and extremely fulfilling than I ever expected.
