My favorite color? Green. I’m sure this comes as no surprise. I live in Seattle, the Emerald City. I love gardens and plants. Green is new growth, nature, renewal, freshness, spring. Life! Speak to me in shades of green: chartreuse, fern, olive, moss, mint, sage, lime, pine, shamrock, Kelly. I love green in all its hues.
It’s all about the journey,
Beth
If you would have a lovely garden,
you should live a lovely life.
– Shaker saying
When I first saw the Urban Cabin the garden looked like this:
A few years later, and a couple things planted here and there, and the garden looked like this:
Then we remodeled, tore off the back of our house, moved the sewer line and dug up most of the yard, and put many of the plants in temporary beds. The garden looked like this:
Then, slowly, we started to re-imagine and rebuild, and put in 9 cubic yards of new soil and planter beds in the garden. It looked like this:
Eventually we also added a brick patio, wood chips and more plants…but then we had to take down our two 60-foot Poplar trees, grind out the stumps and roots and removed all the plants beneath them. And it looked like this:
Today, I spent most of the day in our garden. There are new trees, plants, fruit, herbs and flowers, growing everywhere. Rebirth! Our little 18 by 40 foot slice of paradise in the middle of the city. Now our garden at the Urban Cabin looks like this:
And in the front of our home, the parking strip looks like this:
Our garden, like many things in our lives, has been a long labor of love. There is a sign inside our house, given to us by a close friend: Love grows in small houses. And indeed it does. Both inside and out.
Take the road less traveled, Beth
Kauai was eye candy for the soul, pure and simple. In every direction beauty reached out to greet us.
Tree in fog in Waimea Canyon
Hanalei valley and taro fields
Tree bark (Eucalyptus family)
Pink Plumeria
Bananas and banana flower
Teepee tree roots
Helaconia
I am one of those chicks who talks to plants. I cajole, compliment and cheer them along when I want them to grow. I say I’m sorry and ask for forgiveness when I uproot them. I express my sorrow and offer appreciation for a job well done if their time in our garden comes to an end (weeds being the exception).
Towards a few of our plants, I feel downright parental. Big Papa and I have been nursing a Kapok tree indoors since its infancy. When its leaf tips turned brown recently, I worried about whether I was adequately meeting its needs. Was I giving it too much water or not enough? Was the humidity too low or could it be pot-bound? Last summer, we decided to put the Kapok outside and give its wispy trunk a chance to blow in the breezes and toughen up a bit. Those first few nights I was decidedly concerned. Was it old enough to withstand the spring rain and more extreme fluctuations in temperature?
Big Papa transported our little sprout to Seattle when he moved here from Santa Barbara. It’s possible that ours is the only Kapok in Seattle (they are native to South America where they can reach heights of 200 feet), so I feel a certain obligation to make sure the little guy thrives. Of course, one day, he might reach the top of our ceiling and then it will be time to take our chances with planting him permanently outdoors or, alternatively, find a suitable home for him. When that day comes, even though I’ll feel good about the role I played in rearing him to maturity, I know I’ll shed a tear or two when I have to say good bye.
This past weekend, Big Papa and I “birthed” a few dozen babies. Spring has arrived in Seattle with unbridled enthusiasm, and with the raised planter beds we built for the back yard of the Urban Cabin, we now have garden ‘real estate.’ We were able to provide new homes to a sizable number of herbs, vegetables, flowers and shrubs.
As I carefully tucked each plant into its place, I anchored it with a firm press. Stakes and trellises were sunk into the rich earth to bolster the plants when they need it down the road. I planted flowers for color in the middle of one of the beds and added an obelisk to the center of another.
It was great fun to decorate the kids’ “rooms” and see them happily nestled into a few of the nine cubic yards of soil we had delivered to our driveway a week ago. I keep peering out the window to make sure they’re settling in alright. For the first day or two, they always seem to be a bit shocked and tired from their tumultuous move. I’m sure they’ll rally soon enough, and when they do, I can’t wait to watch those babies grow.
Mothering my plants is a source of immense pleasure for me. Working the earth and nurturing our garden is one of the most soul satisfying things I do. Even when my back aches from lifting shovel after shovel of soil or my skin bleeds from cuts I received when I tackled the rose bush, I finish the day with pride.
My love of caring for plants is one of the things that helped me decide I might enjoy being a mom. True, they don’t scream for hours on end or argue with me that they’d rather be in the southwest corner of the yard. I don’t have to rise at 3:00 a.m. to change their diapers.
But for all my faults (and I have plenty), I’ll go to the ends of the earth to protect those I care for. I make sure there’s water by the side of the bed and something good to fill a hungry tummy. I try to be creative and find unexpected ways to shine a little sunshine down. I dole out compliments, offer insights and praise good qualities. And even when my arms are tired, I always have at least one good hug left in me.