Immortality

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 sat vacant for months. 

Then in the years that followed, the house changed hands a few times. At the moment, it is a home for Autistic children. None in this long 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 loss of its creator and the adversities that have befallen it, the garden continues to spring to life each year. Ushering in these first heady days of spring there are tiny, white snowdrops. In a few weeks, daffodils, narcissus and tiny blue scilla will bloom. 

There are drifts of these diminutive white snowdrops all along the white picket fence.

The bees are mad for them!

These snowdrops, with their tiny green-tipped 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. They originate in 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.

It seems 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.