I'm a messy gardener. Don't let the lovely macros I sometimes deliver to my photo blog fool you. Over-all, my garden is low-budget, low-maintenance and there are times when I talk to the weeds. :-)

A journal of our humble New England garden. Dedicated to W.P., with love.

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Back to the Garden

 We've neglected to plant vegetables, in favor of flowers but this year decided to put some tomato plants in. Next year I'd like to add a few more veggies.

 There are only a few roses blooming at the moment. This is a mini rose bush that my daughter gave to me on Mother's Day a couple of years ago. I need to think on what to plant that will bloom and bloom through July and August. In New England, of course. Any suggestions?

Now I sound like a dotty old garden lady!  ;-)

It's been years since I planted a pumpkin seed. I'd forgotten how much room they take up!

Friday, August 5, 2011

The Messy Gardener Visits Emily's Garden

I do so frequently, from spring to autumn, as Emily Dickinson is my neighbor to the south, in the town of Amherst. Her father's house a museum now, its garden is still very much the way it was in her lifetime. Sitting on the stone bench in the garden to try to steal a bit of what it may have been like for The Belle of Amherst, has become a sort of personal ritual. Perhaps next time I visit I won't forget a volume of her poems to read!

Nature, the gentlest mother,
Impatient of no child,
The feeblest or the waywardest, --
Her admonition mild
In forest and the hill
By traveller is heard,
Restraining rampant squirrel
Or too impetuous bird.

How fair her conversation,
A summer afternoon, --
Her household, her assembly;
And when the sun goes down
Her voice among the aisles
Incites the timid prayer
Of the minutest cricket,
The most unworthy flower.
When all the children sleep
She turns as long away
As will suffice to light her lamps;
Then, bending from the sky
With infinite affection
And infiniter care,
Her golden finger on her lip,
Wills silence everywhere.

~ Emily Dickinson