I was on the hunt for a hydrangea, “Vienna,” but fate steered me to “Endless Summer,” though I knew this would be his last summer.
I had already dug up some lady’s mantle from my garden. The nursery had some dark begonias for contrast with the lime green flowers of the lady’s mantle. I snagged a few bags of mulch and set off to meet the man and his inner-city garden for the first time.
He had started his garden over 20 years ago, the first time he lived in this same apartment. The mulberry tree he planted was loaded with fruit and it was covered with starlings tanking up. It was a rare sight in the heart of the city; this fruit tree surrounded by blacktop on three sides. The tree was so close to his apartment that he could reach out and pick the mulberries. He had never expected the tree to survive when he and a friend planted it 20 years before. Then he moved west, but now he was back. In that same apartment, but with a diagnosis that gave him a year to live. If he was lucky. He wasn’t complaining—he was focused on his garden.
He had already planted a hydrangea and some lilies, both flanked by bishop’s weed. In the center, a busy bird bath. His small garden sits below his balcony at the edge of a large parking lot. He and his dog like to sit and watch the birds and his neighbors come and go. “I enjoy the view,” he told me.
I looked around for a hose. “How do you water your garden?” I asked. “I get a bucket from the kitchen sink, carry it through my dining room, and pour it from the balcony.” I guess this was working, since everything seemed to be surviving, but barely. Rain had been scarce, and his friends were trying to figure out how to keep the garden watered since he now needed a walker. One friend was devising a way to run a hose from the kitchen through the living room and hang it over the balcony.
I recounted this to a neighbor, and she wondered about all that effort for someone who would not be able to live to enjoy their garden. But she’s not a gardener. Gardeners don’t take this view. We plant for today. Sure, we hope to have a garden tomorrow, but we know the earth is always better off with a garden.
In my own garden I was struggling to keep new trees watered. It had been one of the hottest, driest summers on record—a severe drought. The weight of an early spring snowstorm had felled two large trees in our front yard, and I was watering the replacements every few days. The soil was like powder. They’re slow-growing trees. It will take years for them to produce shade. But planting anything is an act of faith; I have faith that these trees will offer shade for those who come after me. They’re going need shade.
“A society grows great when old men plant trees whose shade they know they shall never sit in.” (Greek proverb)
Enjoy the shade.