The first day of my sixties-not half bad.  At market at 6 am, Crystal from Julie’s Floral gave me a really great bottle of chardonnay-and a kiss.  Monica brought a slew of my favorite chocolate cupcakes covered in sprinkles from Ellen’s-have you ever tried them?  Rob redeemed himself somewhat with a fine pair of leather handled French pruners from Arno-they are a perfect size and heft for a gardener with small hands.  Both of the annual planting jobs I did today went well-I am down to my last 14 plantings.  People for whom I plant late get big material-as a greenhouse is the perfect place to grow annuals until the Michigan weather really warms up.  My pots at home are not done-but they will get done in the next week or so.  I plant later in June every year.  All in all, today was a credible debut.  Think of it-a debut.

Tomorrow is my sixtieth birthday.  To put it mildly, I have ambivelent feelings about it.  I do not especially treasure my early years-I was young and stupid. My Mom, how she endured me-I cannot imagine. I very much more like myself, and my life-right now.  However the reality of turning sixty-tough.

Take my word for it.  It is a considerable age no longer looming in the future, but right here and now. Rob was so kind as to load the corgis up at the end of my/this 14 hour day. He remarked-“enjoy the last evening of your fifties”.  It made me furious.  Probably as I was not ready for the last day of my fifties. What if I did not want to give up my fifties?  They had been pretty good, all things considered.  For all the world it sounded like I had only one more night to enjoy my life before plunging into the darkness of an unknown decade to come-my sixties.  OK, this is enough drama to make all of us laugh.  He reminded me of the post I had written-about how since you can’t be anyplace else other than where you are, you might as well treasure it.  Fine.  But I reserve the right to miss my fifties.

I happen to be very fond of the poems of Marge Piercy. I first discovered her work when I was in my twenties; she is a Michigan artist.  There are times when I I will pick up her volumes and read all of them, over again.  Having emailed a client today at 5:30 am, and now home from work at 7pm, I am thinking about one poem in particular she wrote about oak trees.  Not that this is unusual for her.  Her poetry may have political or social implications, but she writes from a gardeners point of view.  She grows things.  The upshot of the poem-and do not quote me as I cannot look up the particulars-is that the oaks are stately, stubborn, long lived, immoveable, silent-enduring.  At the end she concludes that what she so admires so about the oaks depresses her in people.

Today I am not much in agreement with that. Values, traditions, recipes,  ideas, skills, history gets passed from one generation to the next in human culture-via that vehicle I would call endurance. Not one thing about this depresses me.  I am, in fact, encouraged by this.   Just imagine what it took to establish and takes to maintain the Library of Congress, or the Smithsonian, or the Chicago Museum of Natural History.  How is it that centuries later visitors to the Sistine Chapel can still see-restored and protected- exactly what visitors saw during the Renaissance?  We have the plays of Shakespeare, the music of Mozart, the history of the growing of espaliers, the volumes of Linneaus detailing plant nomenclature, the Taj Mahal, the drawings of Michaelangelo, seed catalogues from Suttons in the 1920’s-the instinct to preserve knowledge is fueled by that sheer will to prevail and protect that I call endurance. 

I have all manner of examples in my own personal experience of nature that supports my theory.  Yews in my yard that are getting too much water from the lawn irrigation endure my thoughtlessness until the eleventh hour.  The New Guinea impatiens flopped flat to the ground from lack of water will rise again with the first flush of moisture.  A tree completely defoliated by bugs or fungus with throw new leaves.  A landscape besieged by freezing rain, below zero temperatures, hail and wind, poor pruning, a heavy airless soil to which no compost has ever been added, thoughtless little or too heavy irrigation, and all other manner of neglect-still survives.  The instinct to survive, to endure, is a strong one. 

My late call this afternoon routed me on a major Michigan highway.  On the roadsides-all manner of plants thriving.  My last choice of a home would be just off the median on M-5, but there are plenty of plant species thriving-enduring there.  The ox eye daisy has been prohibited in some states as a noxious weed-but I love seeing white daisies in bloom everywhere right now.  I do not fault their endurance. They make living on the relentlessly windy, exhaust blasted, overheated and untended roadside seem like a walk in the park.  This description applies equally to the thistles, the buffalo grass, wild hemerocallis, the cattails, and the wild grapes.  This time of year, I see women enduring the blast of roadside conditions known for heat, speed and exhaust to collect grape leaves for what they cook for their families-they are all about endurance too. Many places, plant and human species endure- without much in the way of encouragement. 

Clients that wring their hands about providing for this perennial or that shrub, I tell therm that the instinct of the plants living on their property to survive, to endure, is an incredibly powerful one.  You can sometimes make mistakes that won’t kill your plants.  You can make repeated mistakes with plants-they do not give up easily.  I see trees poorly placed and neglected, I see perennials planted in light and water conditions they abhor, I see pruning for which I have no explanantion, I see the cracks in the concrete roadways that someohow support colonies of plants.  The natural world is all about endurance. 

If I had a sizeable field at my disposal, it would be tough to decide if I should line out every peony known to man, or give over the entire space to Queen Anne’s Lace.  A field of Queen Anne’s Lace in full bloom-breathtaking.  No small amount of my sense of breathtaking has to do with the biology of  the endurance of this wild carrot.  Wild, wiry, and so very beautiful-a freely existing field of Queen Anne’s Lace  might be better than any perennial garden I have ever designed. I would not ditch the rows of peonies-how I love peonies!  Everything in the garden is about giving up this to have that -I am sure you understand this. 

Some plants have beyond enormous endurance.  Properties on which the farmhouse has long disappeared still sport rows of asparagus.  You can easily see where the house might have been, given the arrangement of the asparagus.  Poenies are reputed to live better than one hundred years.  I have clients with peonies that came from a great grandmother-enough said.  Old lilacs such as what graces Mackinac Island in Michigan, ancient and unpruned beauty bush (kolwitzia)-I do love those blooming plants with exceptional endurance.  Given the entire list of plants hardy in my zone, each and every one has an exceptional endurance gene.

As for me, I have good ideas some days, and no ideas other days.  I am as likely to miss as I am to hit.  I regularly forget what I have not written down.  Some days what I have written down, I still miss. I handle lots of projects simultaneously.  Does this make me talented-absolutely not.  It only means that I was gifted with endurance.  I start early, I stay engaged, and I end late.  The difference between so-so and better than so-so -a matter of endurance.

There are times when a design issue with a landscape stymies me.  With one hand  raised, I ask for time.  With the other hand raised, I ask for help.  This is not about talent-it is about endurance.

The History Channel is just about the sum total of my willing experience with television.  Their series “Modern Marvels” covers everything from the history and production of chocolate, to catching and processing fish in the waters off Alaska, to the design and production of lenses for cameras.  It is my channel of choice.   I would go so far as to say the series I am watching now-“The History of Us”-about the history of the formation of this country-is so incredibly well done I barely blink my eyes for fear of missing something.  Given that this time of year I can barely stay awake for my dinner at eight, this is saying a lot. I am glued to the edge of my seat; last night I learned more about the American revolution in one hour than all the days I spent in history class spanning many years.  Riveting.  Whomever wrote, filmed, and produced this series has a compassionate eye, a ruthless genius for editing, and an incomparable eye for matching words with images.  Paul Revere-they made much of the man, running up to his midnight ride. The dumping of 1,000,000,000 dollars worth of tea into Boston Harbor-this program conveyed the enormity of this rebellion. The big idea here-I learned so much.  I learned more about what has been part of my history and experience for going on 60 years.  Learning can come anytime, yes?  I have a new notion about the formation of our country-via the history channel.   In my opinion, should you be able to set aside the worries and frustrations of the day, this series will make it easy for you to understand why our country is indisputably unique. A population that is astonishingly volatile, bright, verbal, energetic, unpredictable,-forward thinking.  There are so many stories-would that I could hear each and every one of them. 

 There are those who would perennially focus on what goes awry-this is easy to do.  Hindsight is dead to right, is it not?  To act with vision and courage-not so ordinary.  Those for whom criticism pays the mortgage, or drives the blood pressure up to dangerous heights-better you than me. Though I spent lots of time sorting out what is not working well,  I like to focus on what goes right, what is thoughtful, the satisfaction I see people get from making things grow.  No doubt I have had more than my share of challenges this spring.  A  new knee not  up to speed.  A landscape project I thought would be finished last fall is still going on-the building contractor whose supervision of his building project is hit and miss has forced me into a spring position I regret.  All the spring construction on the roads-my crew is spending better than three hours a day travelling-in lieu of getting the work done. It has been ninety degrees every day for a week. I have a lot of work ahead of me. Frustrating, but not earth shattering.

Would I have been an American at the time of the American Revolution, would I have stepped up to the plate?  Could I have been a committed member of the American Revolution?  This History Channel program made me ask this question of myself. No matter how difficult and stressful my issues are, pay no mind.  I plant flowers this time of year-this is not about freedom, and representation. It’s about flowers, trees, beauty, design-nothing more.  The revolution that formed this country was enormous.  Driving that revolution, a  belief that everyone is entitled to access to knowledge. The program made much of this. 

I teach, and coach. It is my instinct to do this-I was raised to believe that the transmission of knowledge was the most important requirement for a life properly lived.  I would explain anything about the plants, my process, my take on design.  I have been speaking to groups for the better part of 20 years, mostly at no charge.  I am able to teach, so I should.  Reaching is taking the time to articulate why and how I dod what I do.  I have certain obligations to the community, beyond paying taxes. Everyone does.  That is what community means.   Even those requests that have nothing to do with my business-fine.  I usually say yes.  Give and take-simple.

I insist that everyone who works for me do the same. My entire staff is willing and able to coach.  This is how I would have it.  Should you need help with plants, or a scheme for a pot-Christine or Rob are more than able to help.  Seeking to outfit a terrace with pots and furniture-Catherine or Rob.  Ask for them. Rob’s patience and persistence getting something to work is something of a legend.   We are a business that believes that everyone is entitled to knowledge.  We have some knowledge;  it is yours for the asking.  Should we not have something, we can tell you where else to try. My crews get more teaching from me than they would ask for.  This notwithstanding, they listen to me, and they act upon what I say.  They respect me.  We have had a very long, and good relationship.  My work-the success of it depends on the passing along of knowledge from one generation to the next, one group to the next-from us-to you.  

I write this blog, from the firm conviction that every person in my gardening group is entitled to the body of my knowledge.  Where there is no firm knowledge, I have my opinion.  Why would I not make the effort to pass along what I have learned, or believe to be true?  The first Americans believed that everyone, equally, were entitled to access to the existing body of knowledge-a new country was in the process of becoming.  Many may reject my ideas about how to plant this, or where to place that.  I have no problem with this. Look at the body of knowledge, and draft a point of view all your own.  I would encourage any gardener sizing up the merits of organic food, the vintage vegetable seed mania, the new perennial offerings, this design versus that-whatever is new to you, I would advise you to accept what you want, and leave the rest.  In question?  There are so many places to get information-no one lacks access to knowledge.  

I would explain as best I can, every move I make designing a landscape or garden. Am I worried I am giving away something precious to me?  Nonsense.  What crosses my mind belongs to me, and no one else. What gets shared is a good thing. That said, I am more likely to coach than not.