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I remember the anticipation when we first planted this clematis plant in our flower bed here in Vermont. We (or at least, I) anxiously waited for the first bloom that first year. I remember that there was one, perfect, beautiful flower. Now, several years later, the plant is filled with more than a dozen blooms, each more beautiful than the first.
Gardening is patience. It is the ultimate test of one’s ability to watch, watch and see what happens. Sometimes, the results are spectacular and sometimes, they are not so good, and still sometimes, nothing ever comes to fruition.
I inherited my love of gardening from my grandfather, who was to the best of my recollection, an extremely patient man. He coaxed things to grow and he definitely had a green thumb. There are peach trees in my mother’s yard today that he planted from a pit from a fruit he had just finished eating. I remember it. I saw it and the tree that came from it. After more than 30 years, I still remember that and it still amazes me. He did compost before composting was the rage and he grew a backyard full of vegetable plants. He always took the time to carefully tend the plants and the results were, well, always well worth the effort.
I think of the garden as my “space” both physically and mentally. Today, the sun broke through the dark clouds and I felt compelled to spend an hour or so in the garden, planting, tending, remembering.
I bought these awesome, huge dahlia plants from our local Rutland Farmer’s Market, from a stand whose name presently escapes me. They were quite the bargain at 3 for $8.50 and beat out what was available at one third the size and almost $7 each from the local garden centers.
This afternoon, while in the garden, I went to water my seed trays which are in the coldframe/greenhouse we have in the garden. It was quite warm in there today and the seedling trays were in need of water. As I stepped inside to water them (I cannot stand straight inside of it) I was startled. It evidently was so warm and cozy in there that a snake had taken up residence and scared the wits out of me. My only thought was thankfully this happened when it did and not several minutes earlier, when I was on my hands and knees in there and would have been, more or less, face to face with it. That scenario played out in my head which would have provided Tom and the boys with plenty of good “make fun of Tammy” material. I figured that I would have jumped up, knocked my head on the wood bracing and knocked myself clean away, to be found sometime later by the boys or Tom, unconscious in the cold frame with a snake necklace.