Weeping and Bleeding.

Twenty years ago I was a young mother living in my first home. I had my own garden which I spent countless hours working in. It was not large, but it was full. I terraced an unused hillside to make room for more perennials. Carrying and placing large stones while my baby daughter slept in a carrier on my back. Over time that garden became my favorite place; days would start and end there. It was a beautiful backdrop for life – family reunions, birthday parties and the occasional date night.

Then everything changed. A pain, unexpected and deep, pushed its way into my life. It was a dark time. My garden, like a true friend, invited me in. There, in the quiet, with my hands in the dirt I noticed the rhythm of things. Life. Death. Life again. The barren and empty winter landscape gave way to the spring bloomers that had not been dead, but only waiting beneath the surface. I could see, in my garden, a greater plan. A Master Designer. And over time the pain healed.

I planted a bleeding heart in my garden and as I shoveled the last of the dirt into the hole I laid all the pain to rest. The chapter was closed.

Fifteen years later I was living in a new home. One with a bigger yard and more opportunities to garden. To me, it was Heaven. We moved in the fall so I did not have an opportunity to appreciate all the plants that were in the garden except to notice some beautiful trees, including a weeping birch.

Unfortunately, pain was aware of my new address and made an unscheduled visit. They say gardening is cheaper than therapy, so I gardened with abandon. Planted and pruned. Weeded and deadheaded. Tried to create beauty from ashes. 

One day while working in the shade garden I noticed a plant emerging under the weeping birch. Can you guess? It was a bleeding heart. One of my favorite authors, Sydney Eddison, says that “Gardens are a form of autobiography.” My home’s previous owner had plants that were weeping and bleeding. Had he too experienced pain? Had he, like me, found balm in the garden?

These days I am planting more snowdrops; true, it is my logo and I love the toughness of a delicate flower that blooms through the snow, but it symbolizes hope.

What about you? Is your garden telling your story?

Dragonflies

Chances are you have seen a dragonfly or two since they live on every continent but Antarctica. And if you have never appreciated these flying marvels it’s time you took another look. 

Dragonflies are in the order Odonata which means “toothed ones” and describes their serrated mandibles.  They fly forward, backwards and sideways at speeds up to 30 MPH. They have four wings and each is able to move independently from the others which is why they are able to fly with such precision. Dragonflies have a head made up of two compound eyes which allows them to have nearly 360-degree vision.

In their larval stage, which can last up to two years, dragonflies live underwater. They eat worms, mosquito larvae, even small fish. Once they hatch they hunt their prey from the air. Dragonflies can adjust their flight to intercept prey with such accuracy that they are 95% effective. They only eat their prey while flying and if they are unable to fly they will die.

If you are still not impressed by the dragonfly consider one of its common names – Mosquito Hawk. One dragonfly can consume between 30-100 mosquitoes every day. In my book that makes them special. Rather than spraying poisons on our lawn and gardens to deal with flying pests we should encourage more dragonflies. Planting flowers that attract other insects will draw the dragonflies like an all-you-can-eat buffet draws a teenager. Dragonflies also love water gardens and water features.

Finally, dragonflies will not hurt humans. They do not bite or sting. They will not sew your lips shut so that you starve to death (something I remember hearing as a child). I have often had them land on me and if I am still, they eventually lower their wings. It has been said that if a dragonfly lands on you it is good luck. Sounds right to me.