The yard at my new house (been there a year now) has only a few flowering plants. The house we bought was some sort of a rental where people stayed for short amounts of time. Because of this, the landscaping is made up of self-sufficient shrubbery. One azalea bloomed last Spring, but the plant itself doesn’t look all that good.
So I planted a hibiscus and a small rose bush. Then I started some crotons from the big croton out front. And recently I planted that next to a poinsettia in the same hibiscus garden. I use the term “garden” but it’s just a few plants stuck in the ground next to the house. Not very impressive.
I still have 2 more crotons to put in the ground somewhere, but I honestly don’t have the ambition to do it. And there is no place for them. I will have to either expand this garden or begin a new one to make space. That will be a lot of work and I’m a tired old lady. Tired of starting over and working so hard only to have to pack up and leave my garden work behind for someone else to enjoy. I shouldn’t have to do that again, but this time if I have to move, I won’t be leaving a beautiful yard. Guess I’m burnt out.
Gardening in Florida doesn’t appeal to me. I really don’t care how my yard looks. I hate to say it, but this is not where I want to be. My focus is on the vegetable garden, and as soon as I can I will be buying more dirt for that. But that is small too. Nothing too interesting there either.
I know my poor health plays a part, since I often don’t feel all that well. This blog may have to go by the wayside like my New England blog did. It’s tough to write a gardening blog when I do so little gardening.
Then again… depression passes. After a day or two I know I will feel better and be back at trying to rekindle my interest in gardening.
This winter photography recently sold in my Zazzle store as a postcard. It seems fitting as a reminder of how far I’ve come. Since I am no longer living in the northeastern U.S., and back down in the humidity of Florida, this scene makes me a bit sad. I was born in New England, and I love it there.
I took this winter photo back in 2007, and it reminds me of great hope and huge loss. After spending 27 years in the humid, bug-infested south, I was back home in New England and loving every moment of my first winter with snow in years. I took pictures every day I think. This is a scene from my back yard after a nice storm had passed. I say “nice” because it dropped a bunch of that sparkling white stuff I had been longing to play in and witness. I wanted a white Christmas, and New Hampshire nearly always cooperated in the eleven years I lived there. I love the change of seasons and winter is part of it. It’s a long season, but we are all in it together, and somehow get through the worst ones.
We had moved together as a family, but ultimately I ended up alone, with a son dependent upon me to provide a decent life. I couldn’t take a little boy away from his father, no matter how much that father lacked the qualities to actually be a father. So I stuck it out until my son graduated and wanted to move away. Then it was his choice. I did my part. But it wasn’t easy getting by alone in a place known for it’s costly living expenses. By the time I left my New Hampshire home, I had moved 5 times, finally settling into a little fixer-upper for my final years there.
The beautiful snow had lost it’s charm after the hellish winter of 2014-15. And my final winter had very little drama – or snow. It was okay with me.
I’ll never live in New England again, short of winning the lottery. I have some pictures left that remind me of the great hope in my heart when I moved there. The opportunity to spend time in such a beautiful place one last time, is what I will be thankful for. And I’ll visit when I can. But I may never see such a beautiful winter scene in person again. Nor will I walk in the deep snow and enjoy the silence of snowy woods. But I did it once. And that was good.