Life is the childhood of our immortality. Johann Wolfgang von Goethe
This morning, I have been thinking that there is possibly a little bit of immortality in any garden.
When the old gentleman, who used to live up the street passed away and his wife went into a nursing home, his garden was left untended for a long time as the house up for sale sat vacant for months.
Then, in the years that followed the house changed hands a few times. Presently, it is a home for Autistic children. None in this line of the new owners have been gardeners.
The old man's garden has been largely on its own for almost 10 years now.
Common weeds and grass have crept into the flowerbeds. Despite the adversities that have befallen it however, the garden continues to spring to life each year, despite the loss of its creator. In a few weeks, there will be are daffodils, narcissus and tiny blue scilla.
Today, ushering in these first heady days of spring there are tiny, white snowdrops.
There are in fact drifts of these diminutive white flowers all along the white picket fence.
The bees are mad for them!
I believe that these particular snowdrops, with their tiny green-tiped inner segments are G. nivalis or Common Snowdrops. They are easy to grow and quickly naturalize themselves throughout any garden.
Even after he is gone, the old gardener still has a lesson for me.
I had no idea what these tiny yellow flowers were, but a quick bit of research online reveals that they are Eranthis hyemalis or Winter Aconite. Apparently, they are originally from southern Europe where they bloom in late winter. They prefer moist, well-drained slightly acidic soil and a bit of shade.
It seems that bees love them too.
Yes, I think that the old gardener lives on, not only in the hearts and minds of the people who remember him, but in his garden as well.