Having a love affair with a garden in Oklahoma is a dangerous thing. Like most gardeners, I am committed to my piece of earth and I am in this horticultural relationship for the long haul. It's never been just a spring fling with me. My enthusiasm doesn't die with the blistering summer temperatures. I dream of it during the coldest of winters. But cataclysmic ice, like the giant hail we had this week and the crippling ice storm in the winter of 2008 bring me to my knees.
So now I am grieving my lost loves..............the glorious stand of foxglove and peonies,
the swollen buds of the poppies and campanula,
the towering larkspur and lilies............
and the loss of what was to come: the hundreds of hydrangea blooms,
the expanses of coneflower, liatris, and rudebeckia.......
And the BUCKETFULS of blossoms and cuttings they provided.
Don't get me wrong. I know that a garden is an ephemeral thing. It is not meant to last beyond its season, and that is part of its allure, its romance. It is sweet, beautiful and fleeting, and I can accept this. It is why I labor so to maximize its beauty and sensuality in each short season.
So for it to be destroyed, flattened, literally pulverized in a matter of minutes is more than a disappointment, it feels like a betrayal. I was seduced.
And then dumped hard.
