nothing lasts (as i keep reminding myself)

NOTHING LASTS. I KEEP SAYING IT, reminding myself of this essential fact of every living thing–from the magnolia blossom to the Japanese maple leaves (above) to–yes, that’s right, say it out loud with me–our own human lives. Here at A Way to Garden we like to celebrate each passing in the garden, a reminder to wake up and notice (savor?) everything. Yes, of course that includes the obvious–like overblown flowers on a hydrangea or rose–but it also means the subtler details on the winding-down side of the equation, each one a beautiful, if poignant, miracle in itself.

  1. Lynn Bay says:

    As the season passes for all things we are reminded that not all things can be forever in one form! Change is what gives us the ability to grow and then pass on so others can do the same thing.

  2. terryk says:

    I just went through your other posts too and kept thinking how nice it is that we now have cameras (and awaytogarden) to capture the passing seasons. Wonder if as we age it will help us remember them more? I think it may just help tickle our memories and we will travel through our gardens again.

  3. julia says:

    More than once I have heard that the sense of smell is the part of memory we have the longest. It started to smell like winter here in the midwest this week for me. Now I will be inside just a bit more. Thankfully, my little dog pal gets me out when weather and the garden are no longer tempting.

  4. CJ says:

    Nothing and no one lasts, but forgive me if I wonder aloud why the recent death of Wayne Winterrowd received no mention here. I did not know him. I’ve never visited the garden at North Hill. Nonetheless, I was stunned and saddened by his death, because the books he an Joe Eck wrote about their gardening life have been wonderful companions at my winter breakfast table.

    On second thought, something does last after all. Those books will be around for a long time, both on my shelves and on others. (Near yours, Margaret.)

  5. It is the theme of my life! And you’ve nailed it — nothing lasts, and yet somehow, day after day, we make our peace with transience and learn to love the moment that is, even as we let it go. Writing, taking photos, painting, all of these arts remind us to pay attention, to look deeply, to see the world’s loveliness. Thank you for the reminder.

    1. Margaret says:

      Welcome, Katrina — I often notice how even in my “new” life here in a rural semi-solitude, I am often rushing. So silly. But sometimes, like when the Japanese maple painted that picture the other day, even I couldn’t help but stop. I know you know; your book “The Gift of an Ordinary Day” is all about such moments, isn’t it? :) See you soon.

  6. Times change, People change, and Things change. That is a way of life. Being a Capricorn, I only embrace change, if I initiate it.

    But to me, change in the garden is kind of a blessing. At the end of September, no matter how nice my garden looks, I am sick of it , and want it to go away, for a while.

    At this time of the year, I like looking out at the bones of the garden. I put a lot of effort into making it visually stimulating, for the winter months. The garden has many evergreen mounds, clipped pyramids, spheres, columns, and different topiary that I have started. A lot of rusty iron towers, trellises, and architectural fragments, add sculptural interest.

  7. when I started gardening in my tiny plots behind my townhouse recently, I was sad I’d have to close shop around November as we live in the NE. Now I am glad of the 5 month respite so I can come back fresh, strong and energised. Seasonal change of pace is good and I welcome it.

  8. Margaret Fusco says:

    Isn’t there a line from a song that goes something like……how can I miss you if you never go away?! Clients often ask for something that is always in bloom, or complain that the magnolia, or weeping cherry or whatever just doesn’t last long enough.
    Like my fellow Capricorn Fred above I too mostly resist change but growing plants and veggies has brought me around to embracing it in the garden. Who wants to pick beans 52 weeks a year! If the magnolia was always in bloom it wouldn’t be as special.

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