Funky fence decor
Can you see the upside-down light blue bottle that pours into the pipe? It’s behind the Virginia Creeper that I DIDN’T plant.
Another close up. Newly planted purple oxalis, which I think will look pretty once it’s big & established. Last year’s succulent in this pot died in a freeze. The pipe is copper. No way I could throw it out. Too much character.
I’ve thought long and hard about this particular post because I don’t want to come off as negative. On the other hand, I want to be honest. The “negative” versus “honesty” fight each other. Note: I’m not interested in a pity party. Anyway, here it goes…
I feel a lot of joy in regard to the creation of this garden. If you’re a gardener, you probably feel the same about yours. While I like my house, it’s the evolving garden I’m in love with. —The plants, the designing, the recycled stuff, the stock tank fish pond, digging in the dirt, and the challenge of attempting to grow plants from seed.
Baby plant nursery (from unborn to toddler)
And now for the negative…
Coming to east Texas, I’ve joined several groups. Some have been a lot of fun.—A walking group for example and a singles’ group.
I wanted to start a garden club, but I’ve shelved it for now, and one reason is the following.
Recently, I was quietly rejected by a small group of local people or at least that’s the way it feels. No one was rude. No one said anything mean. In turn, I wasn’t rude or mean either. But the quietness from the small group I’d been part of for over a year was loud, if you know what I mean.
I thought at least one person from this women’s group would call when I had my hip replacement to ask how it went. Maybe someone would drop by? Were my feelings hurt? Yep. Maybe someone from the group–if I see them again–will tell me, “Sorry, it was a busy time of year.” It would be nice to have an explanation. Four months later, I’ve still not heard from any one of them.
Native wildflower volunteer. Can’t remember this plant’s name.
And the thought crossed my mind that perhaps this turn of events is because I wasn’t born and raised in east Texas. (People warned me about this issue even before it arose, but I didn’t believe them. I was told, “The locals won’t have anything to do with you.” and “You won’t find a church that will accept you.”—That last comment came from a 70+ y/o woman who lived here all of her life.) All of this is exactly the opposite of what my real estate agent said when I inquired about town friendliness. I moved here with a positive attitude and going forward, I intend to keep that positive attitude.
One VERY positive aspect of living here is I truly have wonderful neighbors, and indeed, some of them are local people. All of my neighbors (even the meth addicts who have since moved) are super friendly.
Water iris in a pot surrounded by cracked pecan shells courtesy of the squirrels.
Anyway, yesterday it hit me that while I love what I’m doing in the yard and that my opinion about my garden is what matters, people from this town may never like it…too weedy, too wild, too weird, too chaotic, etc. Simply put, like me, it’s not from east Texas. I’m of course making an assumption. I could be wrong.
I don’t regret leaving Austin, Texas but I do know that whatever I created garden-wise there would be accepted, even if it were dirty-dog ugly.
I look around and see most of the gardens in my town (yes, it’s my town too) are much the same…straight jacket beds with soldier plants and buzz-cut yards. And in all honesty, perhaps this garden style doesn’t actually belong to this town specifically. Maybe this style is reflective of small town America or it’s just the easiest kind of garden to implement. While it may not be my style, it is gardening, and gardening of any kind is good. (The Kolstad Inn across the street from me is an exception to this standard style. It has a lovely wild patch of cottage garden flowers in the front yard. And, dang, I forgot to take a photo of it today.)
But I can find beauty in most flowers no matter how they’re grown (in a meadow, in a bed, in straight lines, and on my head, in a train and in the rain and with Sam-I-Am upon a plane (but not United Airlines).–Dr. Seuss, I’m not. It occurs to me I can’t force someone to like something I like.
Pink phlox by the arbor in a bed of weedy horse herb, green oxalis, and Texas sedge. I’m working on the weeds. (I only mow when the weeds are above the rabbit’s nose.–Ha!)
Sack of weeds. See, I really am working on it.
According to Pandora’s Box, the reason they don’t sell ornamental grasses is because no one buys them, so I ordered many of my grasses online. (My garden will grow a lot of unpopular grass. UN-popular grass. A-hem.)
There was more to this post originally that I’ve omitted…things about prejudice, politics, and religion (all HOT topics). Things that have nothing to do with gardening and don’t belong here.
I have friends here. All but one weren’t born and raised here. I never intended my assortment of friends to be non-native. It just happened. I’m also not knocking local people and would never exclude them from a friendship, IF they want one.
The bottom-line is my garden and I may never fit in.
But hey, this garden comes from the soul. If people don’t like it or me, that’s too bad.
Man, this is kind of like going to confession…Glad it’s over with!