Last week I had to travel to Jutland to spend the last week with my Dad. He died on Thursday, the Summer Solstice, having gone to sleep and then 10 minutes later it was all over. We buried him on Saturday.
It was a good ending, really; my two brothers and I all managed to spend lots of time with him during the last week, and it was really nice to be able to be there for him – and with him – in his last time.
Anyway, The Flâneur Husband and I came back to Copenhagen on Sunday around noon, and then in the afternoon I went up to the garden to have some time to myself. I didn’t go to work yesterday or today, and instead I’ve mainly just been sitting around in the garden doing absolutely nothing.
Then this afternoon something happened. I suddenly felt like doing something, so I’ve finally gotten around to planting the area around The Puddles. They look a lot less like plastic tubs now, and a lot more like glimpses of water between the plants. Give the plants a few months and they will look like they’ve always been there, I’m sure. And next year I will have to start removing plants because I probably planted them too closely in an attempt to make the area look lush and mature from the beginning. Never mind…
It’s far from finished, but it’s beginning to take shape. Astrantia, sedums, hostas, purple iris germanica, purple asters and a single perennial sweet pea to climb the half-dead small beech tree just in front of the hedge.
I have been looking around the garden to see what else I have that could find a home here, and there are some more irises (both the native yellow version and the blue iris siberica that I grew from seed – before I then got two large clumps of it from my Mum…) and of course I need to add some creeping ground covers to cover up the edges of the tubs. I have an unidentified creeping ground cover with variegated leaves that might look nice around the edges, and it should get enough shade from the larger plants for the white markings to “pop”.
I’m considering moving the variegated hosta over to The Puddles as well; it’s currently in The Ambitious Border surrounded by much showier plants, so it might get more attention if I moved it to a place where the foliage would be more noticeable.
Below you can see the small hosta squeezed in between the peonies, the goatsbeard and the day lilies. It’s lovely, but it becomes rather lost in that company.
The goatsbeard is in full bloom these days and looks amazing. It comes from The Flâneur Husband’s grandmother’s garden and was given to me as an astilbe, but I’m so happy it’s goatsbeard instead; so much showier than the smaller astilbe plants, and perfect for covering up a somewhat bedraggled section of the hedge.
In front of the goatsbeard is the only peony bloom of this year. I’m a little disappointed, as I would have liked to have more flowers, but since I only planted the peonies last year I guess I have to accept that they don’t put on too much of a show this year. Maybe next year, eh?
Still, the single bloom is pretty, so I mustn’t complain. And maybe next year the 5 other peonies will bloom as well.
Today my garden cheered me up immensely. And I’ll be back again Friday afternoon and have the entire week off after that! Just imagine what I might actually get done! Mow the lawn, weed the borders, shift some more plants around? Oh, and paint some of the exterior of the house…
Sorry to hear about your Dad. I thought it might have been the case when you hadn’t posted for a while. I’m so pleased your garden is a help. I think just being outdoors and surrounded by nature are so important for our mind, body and soul. I’m sure you’ll get loads done in your week off. I look forward to hearing about it, even the mowing and weeding!! : -) Best wishes, WW.
Having some time to potter about and just focus on the small things is definitely a nice break from the grieving process.
And the lack of new posts recently also have a somewhat happier contributing reason; The Flâneur Husband has finally moved home, and I find that he takes up more of my time now than when he was living in a different country. Not that I mind one bit!
So sorry for your loss…. the garden heals.
It does indeed, and it will continue to do so. There’s something therapeutic about moving plant around.
I’mso sorry to hear about your dad. It does sound like the garden came to your rescue, like Wellywoman I know how good it feels to be outside pottering around, putting the world to rights.
Some things – like Death – are beyond our control, but perennials are so reassuringly controllable. (At least relatively speaking.)
so sorry to hear about you dad…I find my solace in my garden…digging in the dirt and planting life heals.
And if one messes up in the garden, more often than not there will be a second chance… Life goes on.
Soren, My thoughts are with you and your family. I know that you have probably done a lot of your grieving in advance of your father’s death and that, in some ways, the end was a relief in that it provided release from suffering. The year my father died, I did a great deal of the work on the back garden; I think it really helped to be reminded of the circle of life that the garden always represents for me. Best, -Jean
We have grieved plenty, and ind the end he just went to sleep for a nap and didn’t wake up. It was merciful.
And yes, the circle continues. Seeds are being sown for next year’s blooms, and there will be new shoots on old growth.
Ah, Søren, I’m so sorry for your loss. I hope the garden continues to provide you with solace and peace — and enjoyment, of course. What a perfect time to have the Flâneur Husband back at home. (Not that there would ever have been a bad one!)
The garden is lovely and restful – especially now the Flâneur husband has actually gotten around to mowing the entire lawn. (So far this year I haven’t prioritised the lawn much, so it was quite a qwilderness!)
And it was very nice that we could arrange a quick funeral (two days after the death) without having to stress about plane tickets or the like. He just showed up, and all my Mum, my siblings and I had to focus on was the funeral and getting everything arranged in time. (It took me 6 hours just to do the flowers for my Dad’s coffin and for the altar in the church… Wild flowers, gathered from the meadows and roadsides in the countryside near their home.)
My sympathies on the passing of your father. That too is a circle, you arranging flowers in the church for him.
Thank you, Diana; it is indeed always a circle, and it seemed perfect when my very young nieces and nephews decided to start picking some flowers for their grandfather, too; it made it a bit of a collaborative effort of the two following generations.
that makes it even kinder for you.