The Secret Garden; Making a Comeback

I've been surveying the Secret Garden this morning. I thought that winter had done it in. Not so. Except for the raised herb bed, which I had to replace completely, everything is beginning to peep out at me. Making a comeback.

Because of the hill and my house being by the lake which sits at the bottom of it, as well as the close proximity of the neighboring houses, I will never have what (originally) I planned - total seclusion. I have renamed the area "Secret" instead of "Secluded".

I honestly enjoy it. I didn't realize, coming from flat, sandy, sea level that when you live at the bottom of the hill - no matter how cozy the spot is - there is no fence high enough that the people at the top cannot see over.

Last summer, the garden was stunning. Not right now. The constant rain and cold along with my pesky back have precluded a quick replacement of the lost-through-freezing patio potted plants. In fact, I'm going to keep the numbers to a minimum from here on out. If I do that, I already have everything I need.

Flowers? It's strange how an annual lover from the coast is becoming a Red Hills native-perennial advocate. I plan on adding one or two plants a month to the beds. Surely the whacked back can take that kind of bending in moderation. Here in Tallahassee, everyone plants all summer. You should have seen my face when I discovered that.

I'm pleased with my morning walkabout. The roses and jasmine are in full bloom; the rosemary is green, the irises, making an effort; lemongrass is sending up shoots while fern, ivy, spider plants and coleus have begun spreading. All I need to do is wait. It's only the first week of May.

Now, after the land survey,  I'm ready for a leftover roast beef sandwich on a water roll with spinach and tomato. Then, I think I'll Google a list of "rain garden" plants that I'm interested in setting out in the area that becomes a little lake during the monsoon season.

It's always more beautiful in the garden than I remember it after a harsh winter or a soggy spring - or in this case both. Some Sundays, it is my church. On weekday afternoons, it has become my alfresco neighborhood bar and grill.

As soon as I get the easel set up, the garden will begin to serve as my outdoor atelier. It already doubles as a summer reading room, as twilight settles late and slow here. Then there is my constant skywatching, star gazing, and comet hunting!

Meanwhile, the patio and porch become a writing room, a research library, and a lunch bar. Factor in Squirrel and The Belle, and the place seems like a zoo, as well - with me the keeper. I'm glad the garden is on the mend. It's the most used and enjoyed part of the house in every season but winter and all but the longest, windiest, chilliest of rains.