Do you remember the saying, “If at first you don’t succeed, try — try again”?
That’s exactly what I am attempting to do. I had written most of the column for today’s paper and it has disappeared. It’s floating around somewhere out in limbo, like a lonesome piece of space debris.
I plaintively ask the computer “Why are you doing this?” and it snorts, “Because I’m mad at you.”
No point in annoying this machine any further!
I get carried away sometimes and go off on a different path ... not a garden path, either.
This reminds me of the garden path I assembled in our Melissa Street front garden.
There were two large berms facing one another alongside the street. I made a path between them from large round cement pavers, placed about eight inches apart. It looked inviting to me, and sort of a secret entrance to an enchanted garden. I read a lot fairy tales as a child and obviously never quite recovered.
I think I’ve already told you about the smallish area left as a wild, wooded place on one side of the driveway. To me it was a small forest and I made a path into its centre where my grandchildren could have tea.
This little bit of woodland proved attractive to a few neighbourhood kids who periodically would sneak in to enjoy a tiny bit of wilderness. They, too, could feel the lure of unspoiled nature. They actually wanted to build a fort there, which I could understand, but not allow! It was a peaceful spot and as long as I was there to protect it, it would so remain.
Eventually there will likely be a house there, I suppose, but it remains unspoiled and beautiful right now.
That poor clematis that I’m going to give away is making new growth — not a lot so far, but there are clusters of leaves appearing, which means I should get a move on.
Tomorrow for sure! (I hope!)
I wish my keenest gardening daughter were here. She would have everything organized and probably finished while I’m still thinking about it.
Helen Lang has been the PNR’s garden columnist for more than 30 years.