Here it is August, and the garden is still a source of delight. With all the rain and cooler temperatures, the trumpet vines have never looked lovlier. We have worked for seven years on those orange-red beauties, training the baby tendrils up the six by six posts of the pergola (arbor) my son Michael built for me in the summer of 2006. Then, my sister Cindy and her husband, Pete gifted me with four pots of baby vines from their home in Woodstock, Connecticut. Now, all summer the vines have burst into such wildness and beauty, giving us comfort and shade in the heat of summer and endless nectar to the humming birds zooming through and around the arbor.
Right now—the Japanese anemones and naked ladies are blooming together. I love the dignity the anemones give to the naked ladies, bereft of foliage. The two sets of blossoms give a delicate airiness to the section of the garden they inhabit. Next to bloom will be the mums and lavender hostas.
I love how Stanley Kunitz compares the cultivation of a garden to the composition of a poem:
In a poem…when there is a word or line that calls attention to itself and not to the flow of meaning, this can be deadly. The poem has its own laws about what it can contain and what it needs to exclude. You have to trust the poem. The garden, too, will tell you, usually rather quickly, if you’ve planted something in the wrong place.
So, as much as I love my lilies of the valley, I have to prune vigorously or they will take over all the space in my small garden!