In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

205 In the End it is hard to estimate how people will take to our garden, or even if they will at all. We have such a large collection of oddities, interesting trials, and foolish choices, we wonder how anyone can begin to figure out what is going on or what was our intention. Assuming, of course, that we would know if asked. And while Gary is a wonderful builder in stone, we are both more plant crazy than design savvy, and it generally shows. There are almost no repeats in the garden, and those careful admonitions to grow in groups of three are wasted on us; after all, you could get two more types of interesting new plants in there. But there are paths, there are a few views—mostly accidental—and there are some nice elements—also mainly accidents. For the most part the garden is composed of droughtadapted plants and, because of our interest, includes way too many agaves and yuccas and their kin. It is perversely fascinating to see how different visitors respond to our garden. Some are great plant maniacs just as we are, and they look at everything one at a time, investigating, asking questions, wanting to know the particulars of origin, bloom, and culture, while exploring the chances of a cutting or a seed. They probably could tell someone else everything that grows in the garden, but have not a clue how it looks overall. “Patio, what patio? Oh I suppose there might have been one, but I wasn’t looking at that—I was interested in the Mexican redbud selection over there.” 206 • A Place All Our Own There are also the steadier visitors, those who see it often and watch it evolve and move through the seasons. They come to visit the garden the same way they come to visit us: to look around, admire the first bloom of the bulbs, or the size of this year’s spinach crop, or the way that new agave is finally fitting into a planting. For these visitors the garden contains not just their plant donations, but also their smile, their walk, and their interest forever. Some visitors only see the chaos, and are politely disconcerted. A few are disinterested in all the succulents and so forth and crave more frothy leafiness and more color. A very few have found it harsh and buzz through at lightning speed, looking for a safer place, the patio or, better yet, the house. And every once in a while someone comes through who delights our souls by telling us they love the garden and could just stay here forever, it is so peaceful. Naturally I wish everyone would look upon it and say, ooooh what a lovely place you can have without a lawn, and with so many different plants. But like lots of fantasies, these happen much more regularly in front of the bathroom mirror than in the garden. We are so familiar with every little blade that each triumph, no matter how minor, is magnified and increased by the effort we have put into it, and we cannot escape the desire for each visitor to encapsulate that. We want them to honor and understand all the back chat that went into making this place, but they can’t, they never will, and it is unreasonable to ask. However, you can count on the fact that each visitor will bring what they know, what they do not know, what they like, and what they do not like, and lay it smack dab into the middle of the garden. That, more than any of our intentions or desires, is how they will react to it; with pleasant approbation, small quiet disappointment, or polite feigned interest. Yet in the end, it is our garden, and nothing our visitors say or do diminishes our delight in the place. We just keep loving it along. Like the old saw about whether a tree makes noise if you aren’t in the forest when it falls, could this place we call our garden really exist without visitors, friends, acquaintances, parties, patio wine sessions, and plant swaps? Perhaps, but it would be a poor and frigid thing, and I wouldn’t want to have any part of it. I strongly prefer to keep on marching along, in our meandering and aimless way, enjoying all the bounty, with all the other lives that have intertwined to make this little place all our own...

Share