Susan Troccolo

The Garden is to the Gardener…

By

Katherine Havermeyer and Glory Lilacs

The Song is to the Singer and comes back most to him…

–Walt Whitman from Song of Myself

When you are a gardener, you must consider that friend and foe alike come daily to the gates of the city. The gardener must be vigilant and welcoming, but fearsome to strangers with uncertain appetites.

Like any protector worth her salt, I start daily at the far reaches of the kingdom, just to look around and see what’s what. At the furthest end of my garden, there are four mature lilacs along a fence. I have learned, after almost twenty years in Oregon, that early spring can be challenging here, as well as very beautiful. One day we have sun and spring promise. The next day, it is hailing pellets of ice and the temperature has dipped twenty-five degrees.

Spring is schizophrenic. Lilacs are my cure.

I have planted two deep purple doubles called Glory in the middle of the bed. On one side, my favorite—a triple called “Katherine Havermeyer”—blooms in two tones of light and dark lavender. At the end is “Primrose”, which was supposed to be light cream, but turned out light pink. Just goes to show you.

You can’t count on anything in a garden, which is why people love it as a metaphor for life. The garden will also make a fool out of you on a regular basis. This spring, for example, I planted my dahlias upside down. Why in the world did I do that? Over-tired? Planting in the rain? Brain burp? Poor dahlias—I planted them like the damned in the Inferno. It took a friend of mine to explain to me that the tubers would produce buds all along the horizontal shape of the dahlia and that I needed to go back in there and gently lift them out and start over. Humbling is the only word for it.

Because gardening is so humbling, levity is essential. In my garden, I have a two-foot high, fantastical eggplant sculpture. Standing up tall and ruddy with a tiny flower petal cap upon its head, my eggplant has a rakish demeanor for a vegetable—as though he knows things you don’t.

Susie's Eggplant

 

My friend, Marilyn, was the first to comment. Shading her eyes from the sun, she said, “Hey, great phallus.”

I was taken aback and said with a little sniff, “This is not a phallus. This is my eggplant.”

“Sure, if you say so”, said Marilyn. Did I detect a snicker?

I put my hands on my hips. “Now listen. Do I look like someone who would have a purple phallus in the garden?” I point to my pearl earrings, the fresh pedicure.

“Do I look jam packed full of the goddess? Fertility rites, rain dances, all that?”

Marilyn just smiled. She knows me, and besides I’m not going to reveal any secrets to her. I get corn like you wouldn’t believe. I don’t have to help pollinate those silky strands in a lean year; no artificial insemination around here, no sir. Now I’m not saying my eggplant is responsible for my productive little garden. I’m not going to speculate. Some things are best left unsaid. But maybe, just maybe…I could get out the flashlight some night just to see……Nah.

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We have a winner to announce! Barbara Harrington of Galant, Alabama was the winner of the random drawing to win Grace Petersen’s new book: Gardening with Grace: Thirty years of Blunders and Bliss. Thanks so much to everyone who participated and left comments. Thanks also to many new subscribers last month. WELCOME!

Blog Hiatus for the Month of June

Next month I have an incredible opportunity to go on a pilgrimage in Provence with Dr. Kayleen Asbo. We will be studying the travels of Mary Magdalene in the region, weaving in history with the contemplative life, art and music. I can’t wait to bring back my photography and stories from the south of France. This means that the blog will be taking a hiatus in the month of June. 

Susie's Tulips

 

Happy Spring Everyone!


Comments

  1. I was so pleased to learn that I was the winner of Grace’s book. Thank you so much, Susan! Your lilacs look so lovely – I think they are one of the things I miss the most about my Portland garden. Your trip next month sounds wonderful. I can’t wait to read about it. Enjoy every moment of it.

    • Hi Barbara, I hope the book reminds you of your Portland garden. You are sure in a different gardening environment now, but I hope it is satisfying, and that you are figuring it out. It takes time to learn about a place doesn’t it? Is it too hot for lilacs where you are now? Thanks for your good wishes about my trip. I plan to share it on these pages.

      • I think it’s that we don’t have the cold needed in the winter. This is what the Grumpy Gardener says, “The problem is the duration of the heat and the length of the winter. The majority of lilacs need a long period of winter chill in order to bloom well.” – See more at: http://thedailysouth.southernliving.com/2009/04/17/is-the-south-too-hot-for-lilacs/#sthash.EE5rxKnB.dpuf That doesn’t make a lot of sense to me because I think it’s colder here than Portland. I brought a sucker from my favorite lilac, which lived 6 years until last year and then died. Oh well, we have chaste trees and fringe trees.

  3. Love your eggplant. And the lilacs! Oh, how wonderful it must be to have lilacs blooming! I hope you have a wonderful trip and bring back lots to share and show!

    • Lilacs do so well here and I’m so grateful. There is nothing quite like a bunch of them in your arms for a fragrance from heaven. It has taken me awhile, but I’ve finally learned to whack the dickens out of the woody stems (with a hammer no less) so they take up water and last for a long time in the house. I hope I can do justice to the trip with my photos!

    • Hi Beth, thanks for being here. I always appreciate your comments. I was hoping for a few giggles about my dear old eggplant. He is neurotic, but then nobody’s perfect-:))

  5. I love your garden! The lilacs are amazing. John S. forwarded this blog to me; Ihaven’t been getting it.. So excited for your June adventure!
    love.

    • Hey Dianne–I’ve been missing you! So glad that John forwarded my post. You will need to subscribe in order to get my posts automatically in your inbox. They will come about once a month. Subscribing is easy–it is the last box on the first page, super easy to do. If you have any problems with it, let me know and I’ll subscribe you. The pilgrimage is something you would love. I can’t wait to experience it. The professor leading the group is kind of a young Joseph Campbell–at least she has that potential.

  6. 1) I thought your eggplant looked a bit wienerish, too, but that’s normal for me. I just thought it was a wiener with a wee hat on, which I thought was a bit sly. But I think most stiffly erect shrubs look like giant willies, too. I’m rotten to shrub shop with. Lots of naughty jokes and laughs.
    2) I want to go to France, too. I find working very overrated. I think 45 is the perfect age to retire. 🙂
    3) I love lilacs and have 2 Miss Kim planted next to my windows so I can enjoy the fragrance. It smells incredible wafting through an open window.

  7. I take your point Tammy. Also you crack me up with the comment about the wee hat. Yes, Monsieur Eggplant is making a fashion statement all his own; it kind of gives him an air of gay abandon don’t you think? Someday you will go to France and you will love it and stuff yourself crazy with fabulous cheese as I have been known to do. About the Miss Kim….I hope Barbara reads this, because I bet she could grow Miss Kim in Alabama. It’s a sturdy variety in my experience and very prolific. We have a neighbor here with an entire hedge of Miss Kim–it always slows me down as I drive down the street. Anyway, you are a nut and I adore you and your blog–thanks for visiting mine.

    • Yes, I do have Miss Kim, but she has been rather disappointing for me. I’ve had her for several years and some years are better than others. She hasn’t bloomed so far this year, but we had a difficult winter with lots of freezes well into spring. Maybe she’ll just be late this year. I had a wonderful lilac called Pink Ruth from the early days of the Hulda Klager Lilac Garden in Woodland, Washington. That was the one I brought with me that never really took a shine to Alabama and died last year.

      • Don’t you love the Hulda Klager Lilac Garden? It’s one of our best gardens in a place with many. I think everybody lost a lot of plant material this year, it was a “deciding winter”, as a local nurseryman said. Mother Nature “decided” what would survive and what wouldn’t. That seems about right from my experience this year. Sorry your Miss Kim’s didn’t work out.

    • I’m glad you got a smile out of the piece Sandy–it is a subset of a larger story. I’m really nuts about my eggplant too and this helps me to remember to ‘see’ him! He does seem to take on a life of his own-:))

  10. Your lilacs and tulips are lovely. The eggplant is very cool. I think every garden needs one. Have fun on your trip!

    • Hi G. Thanks for checking in! After this story, I’m going to have to approach Jim (The Gandhi Gardner) about making some more….I think you are right–every garden needs one. You’ll have to let me know what your sister says…and many thanks for your travel wishes.

  11. At art class last week the instructor had a large piece of driftwood for us to sketch, similar in appearance to your egg plant. The ladies were all exchanging meaningful looks while the men seemed unperturbed. In the eye of the beholder?

    • Hi Andrea–welcome and thanks for visiting. The eggplant sculpture is actually made of clay, my neighbor makes pottery of all kinds. I think his imaginative and quirky vegetables are particularly special.

    • Hi Denise, I have a dear friend who just moved to Virginia. I miss her very much. I’ll pay a visit to your blog and see what kind of gardening environment you have–or what subjects you write about. I’ve discovered so many great people and great blogs by doing this. Welcome!

    • Hi Karen, I didn’t realize your season was so late because you are so far north! Of course, we are too, but the Willamette Valley is one of the premier growing spots in the country. As I wrote you on your blog, I have a good friend in Ontario and she sometimes keeps me current with what is blooming in her yard.

    • Hi Carole…can’t tell you how much I love getting readers from Australia! Someday, I’ll have a chance to visit your fine country because every Aussie I ever knew was such a great person. I feel like I *have* to visit. Love your blog btw, I’m also a birder, but not as sophisticated as you are.

    • I’ll pass on your compliment to Monsieur Eggplant–he has a sensitive disposition and loves to be told he is cute. I have a lot of photos of my garden in the archives, if you want to, please click on “Seasons in a Portland Garden.” Thanks so much for visiting….and from New Zealand. I love it!

  18. That lilac photo is stunning. And I love your eggplant, phallus or not. 🙂 Have a great trip. Looking forward to photos!

    • Oh Mindy…judging from the picture on your Home page, you are another Lilac Lover! Of course, you would love that photo. Thanks so much for visiting, I’ll be paying your blog another look-see today.

  19. Well Susie. I don’t know if I am more jealous of your “eggplant” or your trip to France… Oh it’s the trip to France, definitely. I went there once and almost took up residence so promise to blog from your French garden if that happens to you.

    • It could happen. If I’m found hiding in someone’s cottage garden, I hope they won’t turn me over to the authorities. I’m in love with the place too. Last year, we had a big reason to celebrate and I did blog about it (find under travel), but this is all new…new region, everything. Oh btw, I watched your Crocosmia movie and loved it. We have the bright red “Lucifer”and it is naturalizing like mad. Don’t say you weren’t warned. The Hummers do aerial displays over the plant as if possessed.

  20. France does not let go easily– have a fabulous time! And yes I was warned about the crocosmia, and it’s all true. Baby crocosmias coming up in every direction around the initial planting. But already my pet hummingbird Francine has returned and I find myself digging out other plants to make room for the spreading crocosmia!

    • We put our crocosmia in the best spot in the garden and it developed into a “stand” of crocosmia….a huge beast of sword-like stalks six feet in diameter. It’s not uncommon to have a dozen hummers fighting over territory when they come into bloom. I’ve never understood how such tiny delicate birds can be such aggressors, but I love them dearly and make sure all the feeders are full even in sub-zero temps. I’ve been known to set the alarm clock so that I could put the feeders out at morning light and felt hummers just above my head: “hurry up, hurry up, hurry up.” Frantic. But of course, that juice is urgent to life when you are so tiny. So I get it–crocosmia are worth it! Let’s hope Francine makes a nest in your yard-:))

  21. Susie, as you know gardening is not my forte or burning passion but I so much enjoy reading your blogs about your backyard journeys and observations.
    My garden explorations are often cut short by the bugs who seem to like me very much, and I am not talking about mosquitos coming in later towards evening, anything that smells blood or sweat will find me at any time of day with potentially disfiguring swellings especially by my ears and hairline. These little creatures are very offensive, my foes indeed. I do not use deet of course and natural insect repellents are often too oily, smelly and short lived. Have a wonderful time in south of France, I know you will bring treasures back for us to read and see. I’ll be waiting.

    • Ciao Marisol, I knew that gardening was not a favorite thing for you, but I didn’t realize how much the bugs kept you out of the garden. Anybody who got bitten as you do wouldn’t want to endure that! You have delicate skin too…I’m just glad you visit because you are very special to me. And many posts are about other things–Life and Change. This upcoming retreat is just your kind of thing, you would love it. I wish you were going. I’ll try to do it justice with some stories and photos. Oh, I could send you the itinerary–I’ll do that in a separate email.