With Pleasure

One of the very best things about working with plants is other people who work with plants. I could spend a lot of time theorizing about what makes this true but the theories don't matter. Plant people are just great, and that's a fact.
This year's rain has rejuvenated gardens and gardeners alike. In the last few weeks, I have had the great pleasure to visit some great gardeners, and to enjoy their gardens with them. For me, this is the ultimate plant experience. Out of doors in the late Georgia spring, fabulous settings, incredible collections of magnificent plants all come together to teach me how much I have to learn, and how much I will look forward to it. Walking through Willis Harden's garden in Commerce with him was like walking back in time in every sense. To be sure, his garden has some age and stature to it. He has been carefully crafting it for 50 years, and it shows. He knows every plant. No, not just the name of every plant, but the actual plant: where he got it, how he got it, when he planted it, what the weather was like when he planted it, when it first bloomed, how it fared in ice and snow..... From the specimen Windmill Palms (Trachycarpus fortunei) to the large drifts of Pachysandra procumbens;
from Magnolia sieboldii to the largest collection of
Rhododendron I have ever seen; great care has gone into assembling the garden as a perfect companion to the glorious setting that Homeplace Garden occupies.
On a completely different level, when I immersed myself in the garden, I lost track of the tick of my internal clock: my daily routines, the things that distract and nag at me, the things I need to do or have done poorly. We spent the day tromping and strolling, and tucked a heavenly lakeside picnic in between. Time to digest good food, and the delicious bites of wit and wisdom this group could offer. It just doesn't get any better than this. This was a day well spent, and each moment cherished.
One of my favorite poems comes to mind when I think about this wonderful experience.

The Summer Day
by Mary Oliver

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean--
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down--
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
With your one wild and precious life?


Can't wait.... Ozzie's garden tomorrow.......