The Garden

Having been raised in an apartment in Brooklyn I never had a backyard. The closest I could come to one was visiting my friend Donald Solomon, who lived on East 15th Street in a house. I even buried one of my turtles in his yard, or maybe it was a fish. 

So, I never expected to ever even have a house, let alone a yard. I have also always wanted a bench. This one sits by the rear landscaped island, and its beauty lies in its physical placement. I can sit there and watch the birds at the bird bath, or just look at the house from a different angle.

The first few houses Sue and I bought were older ones, and so the yards were pretty much laid out. We just followed the existing plan by mowing and planting a few extra trees. It wasn't until we bought a new home some years later that Sue; she's the gardener; began to actually put things in our yard by design. This has been a real treat for me, as I get to use the yard way more than she does. 

This is the birdbath, which although it leaks, provides entertainment for me as I watch the birds dive down for a drink. The fig tree on the right died as a result of the late frost. We will be replacing it. There's nothing like eating fresh figs from the tree in your own garden.

Of course, this patio area; which was our anniversary gift to one another a few years ago; is where I end up spending most of my time in the yard. Sue keeps it filled with all sorts of plants; flowering as well as shrubs. I have some cacti, which amaze me when they bloom almost every year. 

My favorite is the one which Sarah brought home from the Outer Banks about 15 years ago. I planted it by the mailbox at our old house. Everyone said it would die, but it made it. The worst part was digging it up when we moved. It now sits in a large pot. 

And this is the classic view of what I call my "summer office". I can listen to music, read, nod off; even play guitar back here. The neighbors are usually at work so I can even sing if I want to. Look for a photo of this same spot in a few months when everything will be in full bloom. It's my own little piece of paradise.

Sue's Late Spring Garden

This is where I hang out when it’s not too hot outside. This old bench that we have had for so many years still provides me with a fairly comfortable place to sit and strum the guitar. The trees which Sue planted 4 years ago have really sprung up, providing me with a little “nook” where I can play, or just sit and watch the birds flitting about. A very peaceful spot, I never thought I’d ever have a park bench of my own to sit on, let alone such a beautiful backyard.

These are some of the plants which line the patio area on three sides. Behind the banana tree is the landscaped hummingbird island. The plants which Sue has planted there all draw the amazing little birds, and we both enjoy watching them, wondering how they ever stay up, and also whether they ever really get enough to eat. It seems as if they are burning more calories than they can possibly consume, making them almost like objects of pity, rather than the amazing marvels of nature which they are.

This is the summer “office.” I’m not a sun worshiper, but I do manage to get in about 30 minutes in the sun each morning. I listen to the birds, watch the trees and bushes sway with the light breezes, and think of things to post on this blog. It’s not a bad job. However, it doesn't pay well.

And finally, regardless of the miracle of the fig tree; which is back again this year, larger than ever, and already budding; the sheer rapidity with which this cactus comes back each year never ceases to give me so much pleasure. The bright yellow blossoms will continue throughout the summer months. Last year it bloomed about 6 times, and I proudly posted a photo of each occasion. You can expect the same this year.

There’s plenty more in our garden. We have a magnolia, some oaks, maples, lilacs, lilies, herbs and spices, along with a bunch of stuff that only Sue could tell you what they are. She has planted 17 trees since we moved in here 4 years ago, along with countless bushes and flowering plants. It’s a good deal for me. She plants ‘em, and I enjoy ‘em. 

Cactus and Cotton

Cole Porter once composed a song called “Summertime”, in which he wrote; “the living is easy, the fish are jumping and the cotton is high….” Well, he was right on three out of the four; I don’t have any fish; but my cotton is getting higher. It’s a pity he didn’t mention the cactus though, because mine just keeps on blooming, rain or shine. As a matter of fact, the last two blooms have emerged in the middle of sultry, rainy nights, upending my previous belief that they only bloomed in the hot desert sun. The cactus was a gift from my daughter, and this is the 4^th time it has bloomed in the last several months.

Now; let me get back to the cotton. I have only had one previous experience in growing cotton. That was about 10 years ago on the back porch of the house we were living in at the time. I had quite a crop. There were about 6 plants in all, which is like a plantation to someone from Brooklyn. The seeds come up fast, in only a few days, then after a few more weeks the little pink flowers; which soon turn white; appear. These are the harbingers of the cotton bolls which will take their place, eventually becoming hard and wood like husks protecting the precious cotton growing within.

My crop is small. Mostly, I just take a certain joy out of the plant and its little white balls of fluff. It amazes me; as do most things; that there is a code embedded within these tiny seeds which never changes.  It’s eternal.

There is nothing quite like a field of cotton in bloom, it looks like snow has fallen. There are several cotton fields near my house, which is where I got the seeds last fall. I have given some of the cotton balls which I picked then; and contain the seeds; to some of the kids down the street. I hope that they will have success with them.

There is little that can be compared to watching a seed grow into something as majestic as fully grown cotton.  It’s like looking at the history of ancient Egypt; and also like peeking into our own American past, when cotton was king, and human beings were enslaved for the harvest. And, in spite of the beautiful view, if you look at the fields hard enough, you can almost imagine hearing the crack of the whip.

Father's Day

This beautiful cactus was given to me by my daughter Sarah for Father’s day. It bloomed just in time. And it will keep on doing that for years to come. She was moving this weekend; the first time that she has lived in a different city than Sue and I; and so I will not see her until next weekend. Our other two sons, Keith and Shane, live in New York and Texas; respectively; and though we have gotten used to that, we miss seeing more of our grandkids.

The cactus is an important link between Sarah and I. She was vacationing with friends, years ago, as a kid, on the Outer Banks, where she dug some sand cactus up to bring home to me. Nobody, not even I, thought that it would survive the winter weather inland. Well, it did, and has split into a couple of groups, traveling from house to house with Sue and I over the years. Each year, around this time, they too, give me beautiful blooms. It makes me think about the doubters out there, myself included, who didn’t think the plant would survive.

Another, very special gift is the Red Robin Beanie Babie pictured below, nestled with the other 2 gifts. That was a present I gave Sarah when she was sick about 14 years ago. She had scores of them, most of which are housed in my garage. She only took a few when she married and moved out. But, she took the Robin, which always made me feel extra special.  Now that she will be living so far away (a bit more than 2 hours – or, the other end of the earth) she has returned it to me, and I will keep it close at hand as a way of feeling close to her.

Being a father is tough, but being my kid was probably tougher in many ways. It’s hard to grow up, and it’s hard to grow old. There’s no winning the war against time. It merely marches on past us, leaving us in its wake. No matter; I will always have this Robin to remind me of the daughter who learned to fly. And that  trumps any sense of loss I will ever feel.

Sarah's Cactus - A Living Gift

My daughter, Sarah, brought this spiny looking cactus home from a trip to the Outer Banks of North Carolina something like 10 years ago. I think the town was called Duck. She was vacationing there with her friend Lindsey, and her family, and decided to dig the cactus up from the sand and take it home to me. Everybody laughed, saying that it would never survive. Ah, but he who laughs last, laughs best.

Every 2 years; like clockwork; this spiny little portion of the original mass which Sarah brought home to me, sprouts the most beautiful yellow blossom. And, for the short time it remains; which is something like a month; it reminds me of the hopes and dreams of children everywhere. And in that space of time, I really do believe that nothing is impossible.

Sometimes referred to as the “Yellow Rose” of Texas, this is what dreams are made of.