I want to be a gardener, the type of person who knows the names of plants and can tell if the soil is acidic. Every spring, I start out with high hopes, but by July, I’m fed up and ready to turn the yard back over to the rabbits and dandelions. But this year, I swear, will be different.
First of all, I have asked for help. In this Town of Homes, I’ve always seen my black thumb as a character flaw, something about my lack of patience and preference to read a book in air conditioning, so talking to an experienced gardener feels as vulnerable as opening my mouth at the dentist. But I bravely asked Belmont Voice gardening columnist Jenny Angel for advice, and next thing I knew, she’d invited me over.
Jenny’s garden is a mix of order with the unexpected. Big hostas sit serenely in the shade while honeysuckle and sweet-scented coral pink roses climb trellises. Jenny showed me around, emphasizing the importance of native plants in supporting the local ecosystem.
Previous Coverage
“Let me know if you want anything,” she said, letting me in on gardening’s biggest secret: plants are free. I thought plants came in plastic pots from Mahoney’s, but real gardeners divide their iris rhizomes, pull out clumps of spreading bee balm, and they are happy to pass on these extras to a new home.
After visiting Jenny, I had new knowledge, but still no idea how it applied to my own weed patch. At exercise class, I heard that Sarah Aldy’s home was recently featured on the Belmont Garden Tour (ask anyone about her apricot-colored roses), so I cornered her and told her way too many details about my life. Because gardeners are kind and generous people who truly believe anyone can garden, Sarah came over just a few days later to take a look.
Sarah had practical ideas about edging my garden beds for better definition and adding rabbit-proof plantings like Shasta daisies and catmint to the sunny south bed. More importantly, she showed me what I already had. Some of the glossy wild ginger plants under the lignum vitae could be transplanted to other shady spots (again, free plants!). I had several lovely hellebores hiding behind a tree that deserved to be shown off. Maybe I wasn’t as bad off as I thought.
Thanks to Jenny and Sarah, I now have a little bit of knowledge and a medium amount of confidence to transform my yard from haphazard to something I can enjoy and feel good about. What I really learned, though, isn’t about plants. Jenny and Sarah love their gardens, but what they really love is gardening. Jenny finds peace in bringing order to a small corner of the earth.
Sarah said, “Sometimes, just when I need it, I find deeper lessons about change, resilience, survival, and exuberance.”
I needed to hear that. The truth is, I’m struggling right now. There’s so much chaos and cruelty in the world, and I don’t know how to pay attention but also protect myself. So this summer, I’ll hopefully keep some plants alive, but more importantly, I’m going to focus on the process.
Maybe doing physical labor outdoors in the short New England summer will give me some calm moments. Maybe watching plants grow can remind me of the beauty in the world. If I create a nice space, it will be for my friends, family, and neighbors to find connection and fellowship.
And maybe someday, I’ll be the one handing over clumps of bee balm to a nervous beginner, passing along not just plants, but a little bit of inspiration.
