My husband never wanted a garden. He would be happy with one dog, a couple of bushes, a tomato plant, a few trees, and a large unbroken swath of grass. He never realized the wild twenty year old he married so long ago would morph into a passionate organic gardener intent on ripping up his lawn to plant hundreds of flowers and shrubs he'd never heard of. We discuss the lawn repair project quietly as the dogs, all four of them, ignore us to sniff and bark. I have a plan, I assure him, but these words are seldom comforting. I always have a plan, which is part of the problem. How messy will it be, how much sod will disappear, and what will it cost?
In November I made both beds wider, leaving a narrower curving path between them. I extended the bed to the right. This picture was taken in spring 2012.
The change was subtle and the curves are less voluptuous than I would prefer but you have to work with what you've got. This was taken on Thanksgiving 2012.
The garden may be mine but the property is ours and as much as I need a garden to nurture and enjoy, he is sated by the cool expanse of our small lawn. A weekly mowing and he's done. I like the lawn, I tell him. It gives the dogs room to play and is a soothing frame to the color in the borders. He thanks me and is off. Asking a gardener not to garden is like asking a sports fan to ignore the game. My garden is my heart not a battle to be won and we compromise out of love for the other. I return to the garden to think and dream.
Both sides of the garden feature grass paths leading from the gate to the small lawn and surrounding perennial beds. This was also taken in spring 2012.