Most of my memories of the garden are good ones, but this photo reminds me of the weeds. By the end, each spring brought with it a carpet of chickweed. 

This redbud was one I started from seed in one of my classes. In the summer, the heart-shaped leaves created a huge canopy - perfect for a secret spot for the grandkids to play. It was hard to say good bye to this one. 

Viburnum carlesii - Korean Spice Viburnum

Polygonatum - Solomon's Seal

Clematis alternifolia - Sweet Autumn Clematis

Early on in my time with the garden, I fell in love with potager gardens (kitchen garden). So I designed one in the front yard. I loved this space where vegetables, herbs, and flowers grew alongside each other.  

Bridal Wreath Spirea remind me of my grandmother's garden, so they found a home in mine, too. 

Ajuga reptans - Bugleweed in full bloom

Syringa 'Tinkerbelle' Dwarf Lilac

Alliums & Sedum

I definitely am a collector of plants. One of my favorite plant obsessions was and still is Hellebores (Lenten Roses). I had 20 different cultivars that lined a path in the back gardens. An expensive perennial, but so worth every penny. 

Hydrangea quercifolia - Oakleaf Hydrangea. Either 'Snow Queen' or 'Alice'

Acer palmatum 'Sango-kaku - Coral Bark Japanese Maple
Its foliage in spring was just as fascinating as its fall color. A gorgeous tree that I wish I had brought with me. 

Japanese Anemone
I hope its not giving the new owners too much grief as it likes to spread. 

Excorda racemosa
This shrub is a Pearl Bush. Gorgeous white flowers in the spring. 

These winter shots were some of the last that I took of the garden. Thanks for coming along with me as I walked through her once again. I'm reminded of the joy she gave me, but also all the work. I'm grateful for my time there, but I had more energy then. I'm just as grateful for my small garden now with her own challenges and opportunities. And I'm looking forward to spring with new ideas to try and new plants to grow.

Lessons I have learned: a garden is an expression of who we are, that we are stewards of the earth we've been given, and the garden isn't only for us - it supports so much life - but especially ours. I believe that's why we have such a strong emotional connection to plants and the garden. The heart & soul of a garden is the gardener. 

The last of the leaves linger on the trees. The great horned owl coos from the woods nearby, and I hear the train's horn in the distance. The sun rises and fills the sky with lovely colors. I want to capture all these moments along with all the other memories from this special place that I've called home for so long, pack them up, and take them with me. The next few weeks will be the final ones in this house on the hill, and time seems to be flying by way too quickly. To slow it down, I want to savor each moment, and fill the hours more meaningfully.
 
Yes, we've sold our house, and have found a place to land - so grateful for that. As I walk our property, watching each tree and shrub that I've planted release their leaves yet again as part of their annual rhythm, I'm overwhelmed with how connected I've become to this place, this land, these gardens. Such a blessing this has been - growing a family, growing gardens, and growing myself. Gratitude fills my heart, and helps me brave up to see this move as a new adventure with new opportunities and new gardens to grow . . . 

Can you keep a secret? I'm digging up some of these plants and taking them with me. I don't know why, but I feel this is a covert operation. And time is short, so every spare moment of daylight, I'm out there with shovel in hand, hunting for those I can't leave behind. Hellebores, Hostas, Epimediums, peonies . . .  As I dig, I'm careful not to disturb the roots too drastically. It will be awhile before they get tucked into their new home, forming new roots, and growing in new gardens. Kind of like me. 

I'll be honest - I feel like my roots are being ripped out of the earth, but I know God is gently digging so this move will be a positive one. And like my plants, it will take awhile for me to put down new roots and feel at home. But once settled in, it will all be ok. It will all be ok. I need to play that on repeat. Plants, memories, trust, hope, optimism, and gratitude . . . taking them all with me to fill my new home. It's that last one - gratitude, that I'm practicing daily as I pack. Slowing down to recognize the gifts that grace the path of each day, naming each one, and giving thanks for it. It's in this practice that I find peace and contentment - no matter what the circumstance. It's calming. And then it dawns on me - being rooted in him and in his love is what really matters. 

"Blessed is the one who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in him. 
They will be like a tree planted by water that sends out its roots by the stream. 
It does not fear when heat comes; it's leaves are always green." - Jeremiah 17:7-8

I've always loved that passage. Roots have gone down deep here, that's why it hurts so much to leave. But those spiritual roots keep things in perspective and in the end are the most important ones. I'll share one last thing before I sign off - a song. It's one that I find bits of running through my mind lately - one that I find comforting. I hope it will give you comfort as well when you need it. You can listen to it here. 

"Morning by morning, I wake up to find the power and comfort of God's hand in mine
Season by season, I watch Him, amazed In awe of the mystery of His perfect ways
All I have need of, His hand will provide He's always been faithful to me.

I can't remember a trial or a pain He did not recycle to bring me gain
I can't remember one single regret In serving God only and trusting His hand
All I have need of, His hand will provide He's always been faithful to me.

This is my anthem, this is my song, the theme of the stories I've heard for so long
God has been faithful, He will be again His loving compassion, it knows no end
All I have need of, His hand will provide He's always been faithful to me.
                                                            - Sara Groves​

So I started another garden. 
Not just a small one. It runs the entire length of the building. 
As if I don't already have enough to tend to - not sure what I'm thinking. Taking on another project right now is that last thing I should be doing. Maybe it's this waiting in the in-between that's making me restless. I feel a need to create order and beauty when life happens crazy around me. It's not the first time I've done something like this. I find that my response to chaos beyond my control is to attempt to create order. Not that long ago, as the pandemic made everything spin out of control, I found myself organizing the junk drawer, then each cluttered closet in the house. Random, but at least I could control that one small thing. And organizing a drawer helps organize my thoughts. 

As I layout the new bed line and edge it, I wonder what drives me to do this. Maybe it's an underlying hope and a trust that things will get better that spur me on to do something for the future - beyond this in-between moment. Knowing that someone bigger (God) is handling all this is such a relief. But instead of just sitting here waiting for something to happen, it helps to do something positive and hopeful - like designing and planting a garden. Creativity can be therapeutic, so perhaps God will use it as a way through and eventually out of this maze. 

Do you ever feel like you are waiting? Like you are stuck in the in-between? Yesterday I read a post by author Kaitlyn Bouchillon that beautifully captures what it feels like: 

"An ampersand (&) is the sign for 'and', a connection between two things. It goes right in the middle & keeps the story going. So often we try to rush through the messy or mundane middle & turn the page, hurrying to the ending . . . The truth is, most of our days are somewhere in between . . . 

Hope & heartache
Joy & stress
Grief & delight
Anticipation & disappointment
The list could go on & on because we live our days in the tension of the Already & the Not Yet." 

Kaitlyn goes on to say even when we walk through the "and of sickness & healing, of hope & disappointment, of trusting & waiting, doubting & believing, it's messy. And it's good, in its own way, because it's here in the ampersand that . . . God's goodness doesn't waver or run out . . . it's the thread running all the way through, leaving fingerprints on every page of the story." 

It's in the waiting that I'm finding some peace & contentment - most days. I'm learning to trust God without borders, to be grateful for small things, to pray big, and to wait on his timing. He is good, all the time. 

That last one is easy to say, but hard to believe at such times. But it is a truth to cling to: God IS good, all the time. His goodness doesn't waver. How do I know this? Even in this messy middle, blessings abound. And friends, YOU are among those blessings! My heart swells and overflows with gratitude for each of your prayers, kind words, and thoughtful actions. What a comfort to know that we don't walk alone and that He walks with us and ahead of us each step of the way. 

So here's to messy middles . . . 
. . . to community,
. . . to new gardens, 
​. . . to hope, 
. . . to new mornings and new mercies. 

On my knees. In the garden. 
It grows with wild abandon this year, unkempt as if forgotten. It's not forgotten, just not a priority as time earlier this summer was spent focusing on health issues and running a business. Now more of a priority, and that thing nagging at me every time I look out the window, I've been spending my August mornings clearing pathways, sorting through the wildness, and restoring some order. Not many people I know enjoy weeding, but I'm one of the few who find it relaxing, peaceful, and extremely satisfying. I know the potential the garden holds, and being part of the creative, restorative process brings a sense of joy and is great garden therapy. 

As I tackle each garden, one by one, the 'before' is obvious as it looms in front and around me, but I can visualize the 'after', and that's what drives me. What I find amazing is that as I tackle each garden, it's not just the perennials that are rescued and form that is restored, it's me that is tended, fed, and made whole again. The process of any restoration shapes character, sharpens resilience, and grows determination. Whether a garden, a piece of furniture, a car, or an old house, it's the vision that drives us, isn't it? It's that we see the potential of what could be, and belief in those possibilities motivates us through the hard work, setbacks, and challenges. 

On my knees. In the quiet. 
This time it's my soul that's in need of restoration. Weary from what seems like a marathon of challenges, I'm tired. Yet, I'm resilient. God is a God of restoration. He sees the potential. He uses the challenges and setbacks as stepping stones that build character and perseverance. He restores, room by room, making it beautiful - better than before. I know He is using this journey to help me grow in so many ways. And just as the sun rises every morning, His mercies are new every morning, and I draw strength from knowing that He is present. He is in control, and He is growing something good right now. 

What about you? 
Do you enjoy taking something old, seeing the potential, and making it into something new? 
Are you in need of some soul restoration? If you are, I hope these words encourage you like they've encouraged me: 

First, familiar words:
"The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want. He makes me lie down in green pastures; he leads me beside still waters; he restores my soul. " Psalm 23:1-3

"For I am about to do something new. See, I have already begun! Do you not see it? I will make a pathway through the wilderness, I will create rivers in the dry wasteland." Isaiah 43:19

"We can rejoice, too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops strength of character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment. For we know how dearly God loves us. . . " Romans 5:3-5 NLT

and finally from CS Lewis:
"Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage, but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself." 

Take heart and lean into Him. Find gratitude and joy in this journey of restoration. 
Until next time - ​

​It was totally unprompted. 

I was saying goodbye to my grandkids who had spent the night. Before climbing into the car, my four-year-old grandson saw the dandelions growing in the lawn. He picked one and give it to me. Then he picked another and give it to his mama. Tears stung my eyes, and I gave him a good squeeze. 

Friends, that simple act of watching him engage with nature and wanting to share it with me, and his mama, just touched my heart. Immediately I was taken back twenty-ish years when my own kids would do that. One of my favorite photos of my youngest son is him at age 4 holding a bouquet of dandelions before giving it to me. I remember showing my daughter how to make dandelion crowns when she was about five; teaching my kids to make a wish on a dandelion seed head and blow, not worrying bout the many offspring it will produce (aka more time spent weeding). Summers were simple and carefree back then - filled with little pleasures and special moments. The days were long and we lived them outside: kiddie pools, picnics, sand castles, chasing butterflies, riding bikes, tending the garden. I think back even further to when I was growing up and have similar memories: getting lost in a good book, swimming with my siblings, exploring the woods on our property, water-gun fights, catching fireflies, and just laying in the grass watching the clouds. Summer was a special time. 

How different summers are now. Admittedly those days as a young girl and then as a young mom weren't all rainbows and butterflies, but I'm thankful I can look back and cherish them. Lately life just seems complicated - unsolved health issues, managing the effects of rising inflation, the challenges of relationships, the stress of work - l sure could go for those simple summer dandelion days. Can you relate?
​

​Maybe there's a way to recapture the essence of those days. What I'm really in need of is finding rest  amidst the stress. A vacation isn't in the cards this summer, but even those often leave us feeling exhausted when we return. How can I get the rest I'm looking for on a daily basis? Jesus says in the book of Matthew 11:28: "Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest." Like a drink from the fountain, he refreshes us when we come to him. A few moments spent in his Word, singing a praise song, saying a prayer are small ways to find rest in him. This gives me hope and inspires me to make the most of these summer days in small ways. Determined to recapture some of the simple pleasures of summer, here's what I've come up with:

Create a simple morning routine. 
Summertime and routines seem contradictory, but how we start our day impacts the rest of the day. It sets the tone. Over the years I've learned that I function best when I have a morning routine. My day seems more productive and focused. Studies show this to be true for most of us. I still need that routine during the summer, but in a more simplified and more relaxed way. Starting with a devotion on the patio, yoga on the lawn, a morning walk, a check on the gardens . . . that's how I envision my ideal summer morning. Even if I could do one of those things every morning, connecting with God and with nature does my soul good. 

Make a summer bucket list. 
In order to capture the essence of summer,  we need to live it intentionally so it doesn't slip away. Before you know it, September will be here. Instead of asking yourself, "Where did the summer go?" ask "What do I want my summer to look like? What are the elements of my ideal dandelion days?" If you are a list maker like me, you'll like this exercise. It doesn't have to be a vacation, it can be small things like reading a book in a hammock or for me, just reading a book! 

Here are some things on my list:
- daily walk in the gardens
- find recipes for the herbs I'm growing and make them!
- read a fiction book
- watch a butterfly flit from flower to flower
- blow bubbles with my grandkids
- go barefoot in the grass
- watch the sun set

​They look good, work hard, and taste delicious!
​

In the last few monthly columns I’ve written, we’ve been discussing the benefits of attracting pollinators to the landscape using native trees, shrubs and perennials, and into the vegetable garden with companion plants. Now that the weather has turned and we’ve all got the vim and vigor to get out into the garden, let’s talk about four powerhouse annuals that attract pollinators and beneficial insects, make terrific garden companions, and are edible to boot!

How do Borage jelly, Calendula Paella, Nasturtium salad, and Blueberry-Hyssop ice cream sound? Yum! I asked local herb enthusiast, Marge Koenecke, from Hickory Grove Farm, how she uses these plants. Below are her comments intermingled with my own: 

Borage (pictured above) is an annual herb with a true blue flower; easy to start from seed (direct sow), and has a tendency to self-seed.
IN THE GARDEN: plant with tomatoes to attract beneficial insects such as parasitic wasps that will take care of tomato hornworms. Borage also attracts bumblebees, native bees, and honey bees.
​IN THE KITCHEN: the edible flower has a cucumber flavor; add to salads; freeze in ice cube trays and add to lemonade. 
​​