Daffodil Dreamer

We never had daffodils in our public spaces at Park La Brea in Los Angeles. Although we lived in the first group of garden apartments, townhomes really, a lowly weed would never have the nerve to pop up there, unannounced. There were teams of beige-uniformed gardeners who kept everything so tidy, the grassy expanses in between the back doors of the two-story apartments, were so immaculately tended that they almost looked surreal to me. But although I didn’t have access to uninvited plants or unkempt spaces, Eventually, I began to see different kinds of yards at people’s private homes. At that point I really noticed and really yearned for more individuality where our personal tastes could be displayed through a selection of flowers and trees that could be more natural and less set. When I grew up, I more than made up for the time spent in other people’s overly manicured spaces. So, I let loose with my developing choices despite having no idea of what I was doing initially. That kind of inexperience never daunted me, I just threw myself in headfirst and experimented with different components and ideas. That period of my evolution into the many joys of designing my own spaces organically lasted for several years before I really got the hang of what I could accomplish. Being artistic, I applied myself creatively, as if my soil was my canvass. Likewise, I chose homes with magnificent trees to compliment the softer elements of nature that I lovingly put around them. Adding rusty pieces of junk from the past and repurposing many containers meant to house other items, I began to fine tune my style that worked so effectively to highlight certain garden gems.

Wheelbarrows were planted with flowers as were baskets with moss in them, barrels, large or small, old tin cans, pots, both adobe or for cooking, old, new, whatever I could picture with a plant in it, soon was discovered amidst a pile of junk or preloved goods or from antique stores or swap meets.

I was ecstatic. This was my calling. I felt invincible by the time I had my historic home with 8 bedrooms and 4,000 square feet of space to beautify according to my whims. Nothing was too extravagant or too humble to house a plant or a grouping of flowers that would cascade as if on demand.

How lucky I’ve been with such diverse properties, each one with its own exquisite expanses or tucked away corners to enhance even more. The views from almost any locale on these places always took my breath away in any kind of weather.

And now here I am again in a teeny old cottage with a lovely bit of land to scape with John, my creative genius of the garden. How lucky to have this backdrop with these magnificent trees of every color, even one with white leaves speckled with green. We let some of them stay unpruned. That means that their boughs touch the ground in some places with their leaves making a wall of shade that creates a sort of grotto behind them. That secret garden needs some fixing up though. That job and many others await our attention but there are so many areas to spruce up and each takes oodles of time. Meanwhile we’re creating new plots and new structures and trying to keep up with the vegetables. The latter is a fulltime job and we only do it sporadically on fine days along with developing new areas to worry about.

This year as we get crankier and a bit slower and take on more and more, we know we’ve overextended ourselves. But we don’t actually care. We’re having fun again putting new touches here and there and we will get to the more boring jobs when the summer garden finishes doing its dash. Sometimes, like today, I’m learning how to break away from gardening chores, temporarily of course, to crow about how happy this garden work makes me. It gives me purpose and pleasure in spades and we’re very grateful to have all this beauty all around this tiny house that’s got vases of flowers and greenery in every room. This House of Cluck-Cluck has been quite a salve for our souls.