Before I get to the reason for the pouting, though, I'm going to post a few photos to catch everyone up on the horticultural highlights of my little sabbatical:
|I counted FOUR blooms on my rescued Bird of Paradise this winter!|
|This 3ft tall tower of 'Brasil' philodendron looked pretty through the winter next to the BOP, in spite of having almost no soil in its container.|
|Mexican heather bloomed through part of the fall and early winter, mingling nicely with a nearby succulent.|
Okay, I feel better now, after seeing a little bit of plant prettiness. So, here goes: I haven't been posting anything here, and I've kind of been in mourning because... I'm going to be leaving my garden. And I didn't know quite what to say about it.
The reason for leaving is a very good one--even a happy one. I'm getting married in August, and my fiance simply does not fit in my house. (Frankly, he's not all that fond of old houses, anyway. He would like to have something a little bigger, and more open.) At 6'4", he has to bend his head on the lower landing of both staircases, and when taking a shower upstairs. His size 14 feet do not fit on the steps... in fact, he has to walk sideways on his way down.
I love my house, but the thought of leaving my garden is really what sent me into a bout of melancholy. The garden is really where I healed after my divorce. It has witnessed countless thoughts, hopes and dreams... and, worse, the cherry trees I planted years ago are just now starting to bear fruit!
But... there was never any question of whether or not I would eventually move once we got married. A man should be comfortable in his own house, after all! I did request for us to put off the whole moving-and-house-hunting process until next spring, however. The thought of planning a wedding in just 10 months PLUS trying to keep my house in show-worthy condition sounded pretty much like an impossible task. And since he's a very reasonable guy, he readily agreed to suck it up and deal with my sweet little house temporarily.
And so I have this one last year with my garden. One last growing season to watch things mature. One last summer to eat blackberries, strawberries, raspberries and cherries. One last chance to finish painting the darn fence and simplify the borders to make the house more sellable. One season in which to propagate my hypericums, dig up and containerize my blueberries, and move countless divisions and seedlings to the yard of my (thankfully amenable) future mother-in-law.
Just one more year. So I guess it's time to stop pouting, and start the planning!