Last week I wrote about reflections in the garden. I intended to continue the theme this week… and I will return to it. But this week I’m reflecting in a different way, looking back at where I’ve been, considering where I’m going to go.
We leave our mark wherever we go.
For the last few months I’ve been taking part in a meme organized by Lucy Corrander of Loose and Leafy (great blog name, Lucy!). Starting in March this year, I’ve ‘followed’ a corkscrew hazel that I planted in 2011. I’ve chronicled its growth, the way its leaves changed colour over the months and how its branches became increasingly twisted. And every month I have disliked the tree more and more.
The twisted branches need space to show their sculptural qualities. The ones at the base of the tree are too close together. They rub against each other. Not good.
I thought I was ‘following’ my tree in the same way I would ‘follow’ a garden guru: paying attention to what the guru was saying and thinking about how I could use the advice.
But I was wrong. I wasn’t ‘following’ at all. I was out in front, too busy talking to listen. So I missed the message my tree was sending. Help! I’m in the wrong place! Move me. Please!
Tucked in among other plants, too close to an attractive neighbour, the attractions of the corkscrew hazel were obscured. Cutting back the surrounding plants gave an open view and created a space quiet enough for me to hear what the tree was saying.
Why did I plant it here in the first place? Clearly it is the right tree in the wrong place.
Reflecting on the eight previous blog posts I’ve written about this tree makes me realize that I’ve been blaming the tree for my mistake. Today, when I went out to dig it up, to dispose of it, to throw it away, I noticed a small bud. Two buds, in fact.
Buds are a promise of things to come.
Those buds reminded of why I bought the tree in the first place: the roughly textured, crinkled burgundy leaves. The buds looked the same, like leaves to come.
So I’ve changed my mind and given my corkscrew hazel a reprieve. How could I get rid of it? It was trying so hard to please.
In the spring, when the hazel comes out from its winter wraps, I’ll find a better spot for it, someplace where it can stand on its own. The twisting branches suggest that a place where a path splits or changes direction might do. Or maybe I’ll plant it by the pond, where shadowy branches will create reflections of their own.
A twisted tree is reflected in the water in a San Francisco garden.
I doubt I’ll write about the tree again. Or at least, not this year. Perhaps a few years from now, when my tree has grown enough for its merits to shine, I’ll bask in its reflected glory.
Time will tell.
Wow, that last photo is amazing! Love the silhouette that get created on the water! Gorgeous!
Finally sorted it out. comments should work from now on.
Yes, this is good! I would also like to wish you a very happy birthday tomorrow, hope it is a wonderful day. My Mother will be 93 tomorrow!
Thank you, Robert. I won’t be 93 but hope I will be, one day!
I find this a very moving post. I like the idea of listening to the tree and its needs as well as observing it.
I hope you do write more about this tree. There is bound to be more to tell – I think it’s the only Tree-Followed tree this year which will be wrapped for winter.
Lucy, you are so positive and encouraging. Thank you.
This post provides an important reminder to all of us (and control freaks like me in particular!) that sometimes we need to step back and really look at and hear our gardens. Thanks Pat.
Listening can be hard when there is so much fall clean-up to do! Not to mention bulb planting…
I hope the tree works out for you, I was glad to read it has another season ahead. The branching is fascinating.
I’m glad, too, Hollis. I have to find the right spot for it before I start digging, but I’m sure there is one.