Dead things in the garden

Still I find dead things in the garden.   

I’ve spent yet another week removing dried up perennials and pruning lifeless branches from bushes and trees.  The stiff perennials came out with a single, slight tug, their roots dried, having long ago released their hold on life.  Under the lilac bushes, I discovered a shriveled dead snake, half curled and half stretched out as though she just laid down and said to herself, “And now it’s over.”  Snakes don’t bother me – never have.   Mice, on the other hand, terrify me.  Maybe that’s why I like snakes, because they rid the garden of rodents.   I initially bent down and picked up the snake, intending to toss her into the weed patch, but as I held her in the palm of my hand I felt a sense of genuine sadness.  Here I was, perhaps the sole witness to the after-death of this little creature.  I’m not sure why I did what I did next, but I  gently placed her back under the lilac bush, and that is where she remains.  Eventually, she’ll decompose, as will we all . . .dust to dust.  It seems proper to just leave her be.

Many of the seeds I planted two weeks ago show no sign of emerging.  It’s simply been too cold here and I fear they’ve been frozen to death.  Gardening in Colorado is always a challenge -- it is not for the weak of heart.  I'll wait for the weather to warm up and then plant more seeds.  There are other things very much alive in the garden, though.  Dandelions and weeds for instance, so I also spent the week playing tug of war – unbelievable how succulent, long and deep some of those weeded roots go.  And yet, in spite of cold, wind, dryness and an overabundance of weeds, I have Darwinian plants that are thriving.  Hydrangeas, lavender, day lilies, dwarf rose bushes, and honeysuckle give me much hope that the garden will at some point come fully alive.  I did cuttings from some of these strong ancestral plants today and into water the clippings of clematis,  spirea, and daisies went, hoping roots will sprout and their offspring will thrive elsewhere in the garden . . . an attempt to fill in the empty patches of turned up soil.

Ah yes, and the beans and peas have poked their little heads above ground.  They are true natives here, the cold and wind does not bother them at all.

Then there is the mint.  Always the mint.  I chastise myself for planting this one in the ground instead of in a container pot.  Mint is a little Napoleon, wanting to take over the world.  Still, it adds a nice clipped freshness to iced-green tea, which Mike appreciates and enjoys.

As I finished all I could do in the garden today (50 degrees and windy so I’m worn out from it), I brought to the indoors some snippets of lilacs to remind me that the cold Colorado spring can still yield beauty.  I admit that the garden does not belong to me.  I am nothing more than its caretaker, and sometimes, no matter the pruning, organic fertilizing and nurturing I provide, some plants will not withstand the bizarre Colorado weather and draughts.  Yet other plants, with very little care, will outlive me.  In the end, Nature will simply have its way.