It is, I suppose, a fool's errand. I've planted more hostas outside the basement window. We had invested considerable energy last summer in creating a scenic garden area below the retaining wall, but the necessity for foundation repair made short work of that. If I was annoyed at the floral destruction, it was a happy enough trade. It was secure the foundation or see the house continue its slide down the hill. Farewell fair flowers!
But this spring, we've begun the recreation -- smoothing the mountain of soil, recreating the edging, re-imagining the plantings. Lilies, hostas, peonies, ornamental grass, iris, a few more perennials, and a variety of annuals. And it has all thrived. But there was this tree across the way where our outdoor chairs had been clustered. Wouldn't a few hostas around the base look nice? Yes, but won't the deer consume them? And the rabbits? And the squinties? Why bother?
Why bother indeed? The odds are even at best that any of it will reach maturity. It is, as I say, something of a fool's errand -- all this horticultural undertaking. The woods are on both sides of us, and the various nibblers who live there. I have every reason to expect it to be money and energy -- and garden dreams -- down the drain.
But still we plant. It is, it seems to me, a defiant -- or merely faith-filled -- metaphor for all the ways we seek beauty, attempt valiance, commit optimism, or invest in the best, even when the worst shadows and thunders. Why? Because while the odds are not always good, little could be worse than acquiescing to bleak and colorless certainty.
A bright, calculated risk can make all the difference in the world.
Dare on.
But this spring, we've begun the recreation -- smoothing the mountain of soil, recreating the edging, re-imagining the plantings. Lilies, hostas, peonies, ornamental grass, iris, a few more perennials, and a variety of annuals. And it has all thrived. But there was this tree across the way where our outdoor chairs had been clustered. Wouldn't a few hostas around the base look nice? Yes, but won't the deer consume them? And the rabbits? And the squinties? Why bother?
Why bother indeed? The odds are even at best that any of it will reach maturity. It is, as I say, something of a fool's errand -- all this horticultural undertaking. The woods are on both sides of us, and the various nibblers who live there. I have every reason to expect it to be money and energy -- and garden dreams -- down the drain.
But still we plant. It is, it seems to me, a defiant -- or merely faith-filled -- metaphor for all the ways we seek beauty, attempt valiance, commit optimism, or invest in the best, even when the worst shadows and thunders. Why? Because while the odds are not always good, little could be worse than acquiescing to bleak and colorless certainty.
A bright, calculated risk can make all the difference in the world.
Dare on.
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1 comment:
...we boast in our sufferings, knowing that suffering produces endurance, and endurance produces character, and character produces hope, and hope does not disappoint us...
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