As the Hydrangeas Turn

                      “And all at once, summer collapsed into fall.” ~Oscar Wilde

 As the hydrangeas turn I find I am totally caught off guard by their decision. I walk right by them everyday. I cannot miss them as they are everywhere around Camp MP. They brush my legs when I walk to the driveway as they have tumbled onto the walkways and they greet me at the front door, back door... The "quick" turn from classic hydrangea blue to "it's time for me to sport my fall flair" pinky-mauve happened in a blink.  In a time when nothing is working as it should the gardens at Camp MP do get that it is September...even if the keeper of the gardens has NO clue! 

 How is it September? Seriously I missed a month or two or three or...I spy berries bursting forth on the trees, hear the acorns starting to do their fall drop dance on my neighbor's deck, watch as spots of leaves on random trees paint themselves into autumn...but summer?  Yes, it was hot, sticky, buggy, but was it summer and if it was where did it go?  

The gardens at Camp MP have always held lessons for me: patience as I plant and wait for the sign of buds and blooms; perseverance as the critters chomp away and I refill all the holes they dig and replant what they pop out to make room for what they feel is more important; persistence and determination as for every one weed I dig out 100 more appear in their place...but always, always, the gardens have whispered hope. 

 “Go, sit upon the lofty hill, And turn your eyes around, Where waving woods and waters wild Do hymn an autumn sound. The summer sun is faint on them— The summer flowers depart— Sit still— as all transform’d to stone, Except your musing heart.” ~Elizabeth Barrett Browning

 After winters with hundreds of inches of snow the gardens for the most part do what they are assigned to do-they pop up, they grow green and in as many cases as possible they bloom.  This year where the world just stopped, my gardens ignored what was happening around them and simply burst forth. They promised with each bud and bloom that while everything else seems upside down it is OK. They want me to stop. They want me to loo. They want me to pay attention, not just to them, but to all I usually miss when the speed of "normal" time carries me.  They tell me they know better and that NOW is what counts and that maybe there is a lot that when the clock starts again for all of us we may not need to care so much about.I have very wise hydrangeas!

 So now, as the seasons turn and I am once again looking for summer as it is waving so long, I turn to my gardens for their wisdom, for answers. What's next?   As the hydrangeas turn I may be surprised, but I am also relieved and grateful that they are there for me to look to, to ground me, to guide me, and to say OK girl it is time to move forward-keep moving forward and be well!

       “Life starts all over again when it gets crisp in the fall.” ~F. Scott Fitzgerald      

There Will be Weeds! Hopes for a Summer in Bloom, A Gardener's Lament

via Vogue UK

 "Weeds are flowers too, once you get to know them"-Winnie-the Pooh

The Gardens at Camp MP and I are not seeing eye to eye this summer.  It seems as if no amount of time, sweat, energy, scratches, bug bites, thorns ,money or mulch will make my gardens bloom. 

 

 via

Now, I don't believe in garden perfection--sort of unnatural I think to have every petal smile and every plant and shrub stand tall and upright--would be nice however.  But I would like to see hundreds of hours of care and attention show a little--OK a lot! 

 

via Town and Country

   After a loooong cold snowy winter, and a lovely spring where everything popped up magnificently, my hopes for a summer in bloom has faded as July turns.  The peonies and roses came in gloriously and then left as quickly as they could.  Lavender is filling the walkways fragrantly and then...nothing! Bed upon bed in the gardens at Camp MP have grown in leggy and floppy and there is an insidious vine that wants to strangle the joy out each and every resident, and like a bad movie every tug brings it back stronger.

 via

Every gardener knows there will be weeds, and crazy vines, and bugs that chomp... and sadly there will be plants whose time in the garden is done...

 via Town and Country

 ...but our payoff for all the work and disappointment is always a garden in bloom!

via Lucy Grossmith

"Just living is not enough. One must have sunshine, freedom and a little flower."

-Hans Christian Anderson

For the gardens at Camp MP so far this season,however, those blooms have yet to make their presence known. My work-worn, not so well manicured, beds have no presence, no grace, no color and hold for this gardener nothing but frustration.  I want a summer's beauty.

 via Traditional Home

I pour over images of gracious gardens and fuss and fret.  

Charlotte Moss' East Hampton Kitchen Garden via Veranda

 Scores of hydrangeas just sit, leafy yet bare.  I can count on one hand the hydrangea heads that have popped -perhaps I am a spoiled hydrangea hostess, but I have grown not only accustomed, but also expectant that summer and hydrangeas would go hand in hand--like flip flops by the back door and the top down on the convertible.

via Town and Country

As always my gardens teach me something if I stop fussing long enough to listen to them.  In the garden, as in life, sometimes hard work is just hard work.  We have come to demand a gift, a result, a reward for our work...sometimes life and the garden say-not this round.  A garden is a process, a never ending chore that calls to me each day.  I can clip, and dig, and yank, and tug, and prune, and water, and care with all my heart, but nature will decide how many hydrangeas will bloom, how many weeds and vines will push their greedy way through, and how many days of rain and sun are in the forecast.  Deal with it!  and find the joy in that one lone hydrangea head that appears beneath the leaves-treasure it and don't be a greedy gardener for as Audrey said...

"To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow"

via

The Hydrangeas Get a Haircut! A Dead-Head Day

The gardens at Camp Mp started the season in glorious fashion.  The heavy snows of February seemed to serve them well and everyone was bursting forth for a wonderful summer...then came the heat and the rain and the heat and the rain-no no one is happy-especially their gardener!  What began as a magical year for the hydrangeas quickly became  misery.  A Jungle would sum it up well and a much needed trim back  was followed by scorching heat that burned leaves and heads that were not used to or happy with such temperatures.  So when the skies cleared and the temps moderated a dead head day from one end of the gardens to the next was in order. This never leaves a pretty sight but there are lots of buds that hopefully will give the hydrangeas of Camp MP another season---and whatever fell to the ground comes inside to remind me why I love them so.

Scat! An Uninvited Guest in The Garden and the Healing of the Hydrangeas

"Everything that slows us down and forces patience, everything that sets us back into the slow circles of nature, is a help. Gardening is an instrument of grace."

May Sarton 

I woke this morning with more than a few scratches and plenty of blisters and bumps.  I had spent the weekend doing my best impersonation of Edward Scissorhands, having at the gardens of Camp MoneyPit with more than the annual spring wake-up and clean up.
 
 Though we are all picking up our lives and moving forward, the events of the past couple of weeks have left us all a bit unsettled,  and I discovered that I needed to go where no matter what may be going on I can find hope and I can do some good-The Gardens.
 Still when I looked around the gardens at Camp MP this weekend I knew it I had my work cut out for me.  Everything had grown beyond its corner and it was now or never to bring it all under control and do what I could to give the gardens their strength...an overwhelming task that I honestly didn't think I would finish and I nearly tossed my clippers in disgust several times-who on earth planted all of this!

I began at the heart of every bed and corner-my hydrangeas.  Last summer was "a little" over the top, the hydrangeas made their presence known,at the expense of everyone beneath their boughs.  The lavender and boxwoods and roses had a hard time showing their faces crowded out and covered up by hydrangeas that would have their way. Seriously can you have too many hydrangeas? Nah!  Afterall, mine is not a passing fancy when it comes to hydrangeas... yet,even I have to admit they went beyond their bounds. So this weekend each and every one was shown who was in charge and brought down and down and down.

 Along the way as I stood sputtering to myself a visitor appeared-round fluffy with piercing glow in the dark green eyes, swishing its tail amongst the thorny rose branches.  Now its not that I dislike cats its just that I prefer the company of dogs-ever loyal and loving no matter what the day brings.  This cat was just in my way and I tripped over her several times,  but she was a guest who came for a visit and clearly had the instinct to know I needed comedy in my day.  She rolled around in the pile of weeds, climbed into my giant bright blue garden bags walking off with one on her head,  jumped into a pile of rose bush branches without a care and batted away at the hyacinths and tulips as if playing an instrument.  She was a nuisance underfoot but clearly was having a better day than I was so I decided if you cant beat 'em join 'em.  I let her play in my gardens with very strict instructions-  she was not to eat the pansies and not even to think about using the beds as her personal powder room-no promises by a cat should ever be trusted!

By the weekend's end my friend had moved on-off to annoy another gardener no doubt, but I found myself looking for her...did she climb into one of the 14 garden bags I filled-surely I would have noticed if I had bagged her up given her size?!  No, she wasn't to be found til later in the day when I went to sweep up and there she sat smack in the middle of one of the many now cleared beds.  I had inadvertently made her a very nice spot to sun herself-cleared of hydrangea branches and weeds she was sitting pretty, her fuzzy face speckled with weeds and garden twigs turned toward the warmth of the late afternoon sunshine. My gardens, which now were ready to take on the season, provided her a spot to enjoy her day and whether I invited her not she made herself to home.  She had no intention of budging no matter how many times I asked politely and not so politely for her to "scat", so  I resigned myself to the fact that my gardens now had a house guest-now if I could just get her to do some weeding.

"All my hurts my garden spade can heal."

-- Ralph Waldo Emerson

Taking Charge!

True Confession...I like to be in charge!  Its not that I don't play well with others, I do, I really do!--as long as they do things my way :)  

This summer in the gardens of Camp MP though NO ONE is listening to me 

and things look a bit wild. 

 So what do I do when everything starts to get out of  control...

I find a lovely cobalt pitcher to contain my world.

Now, that's better!