Reflections from an Oasis Novice

After reading gardening magazines, I knew our outdoor space needed elevation. "Cement blocks," I said. "If the planters are at varying heights, that will add to the appearance." No boring one level stuff for me anymore!

My husband said, "Okay," and went to the local home improvement store. He not only came home with cement blocks for my plants, but wooden beams, and a plan. You have to love a husband with a plan. Curious, I listened as my simple wish for elevation blossomed into much more. He built a raised flower bed with three tiers. He ordered topsoil. We could expand the region and not just have a few planters, but a larger place of respite and beauty which needed a short fence to define the space. And we'd need bark mulch to cover the ground. Of course, my husband ordered mulch.

He constructed a bench and off to the store we went---together this time---to purchase cushions for it. He converted a cooler into a wooden drink stand. He christened the location with a sign: Alice's Little Oasis. When we found pillows with Oasis stitched on them, we knew they were meant for us.

In the tiered bed, I planted coneflowers, daisies, and dianthus and watched them grow and bloom. The following spring I planted arugula, red lettuce, and Swiss chard. I bought more to plant---coreopis and candy tuft. The garden grew in content as well as space.

But one afternoon the arugula and red lettuce were chewed. The coneflowers had been gnarled to their roots. Rabbits! I'd seen one scamper. I yelled at the hoppy creature the next day as he darted away from the raised bed into the neighbor's yard. I understood Mr. McGregor in the Peter Rabbit tales in a new way.

On an August morning, I noted that the leaves from taller plants were gone. The bee balm, which had been flourishing, had one leaf. Who was able to get to the tops of these stalks? It must be deer. I could no longer blame only the rabbits. "Get mint and rosemary," were some suggestions from social media friends. "Deer and rabbits hate those." We had rosemary. We had mint. The hosta leaves were devoured and they sat right beside a large planter of mint. Even the leaves of peacock orchids had been tampered with.

I felt defeated. I didn't want to spend any more money on flowers. Although the Swiss chard was next to the lettuce, it had not been eaten. Perhaps the wildlife doesn’t like Swiss chard. I transplanted it to a higher bed. Weeks later I saw it was thriving.

The peacock orchids had bloomed; but not all 50 from the bulbs I'd planted in the early spring. There were plenty of stalks, green and long. But only one of them had produced flowers. I kept hoping more delicate white flowers would arrive because I'd imagined the Oasis flourishing with them.

As I've entered this world of determined gardening, I think of the obvious notion to give up. Forget this illusion that I'll get flowers and plants to provide the sanctuary I desire. What else does this all tell me? Read more books on how to be successful? Don't let the critters get me down? Keep going? Better luck next year? Or perhaps, get a large hoe like Farmer McGregor and chase those four-legged nibblers?

When I think about how we expect things to go as we think they should or as we think they do for others, the Oasis comes to mind. We want to have our gardens, as well as our lives, turn out the way we want or the way we imagined they should go. I've had to take the time to ponder the other lessons, perhaps the more important lessons, along the way. Can I look at life in a new way? Can I discover beauty in the midst of uncertainty? I tell myself to focus on that which has grown (and has not been destroyed) and that which makes the Oasis pretty, even if it is not as robust as I had hoped. See the glass half full. I plant and try to protect, but so much of what happens in a garden is not up to me. Just like in day-to-day living. I'm not as much in control as I'd like to believe I am.

And that is my two-cents as an Oasis Novice.

Adversity, Lilies, and Why We Don't Give Up

My son gave me bulbs for Mother's Day. I asked for them; it's nice when kids listen to their mamas.

I'm not sure why a woman with no ability to cultivate growing things other than perhaps, children and pets, would ask for flowers. Of course I love flowers and the way they make me feel alive and joyful. But I have never had the proverbial green thumb like my neighbors do.

In my garden, I wait each spring for the purple irises to bud. Those bulbs were planted by the previous homeowner. I don't have to do a thing and they flourish and look pretty.

Days after I received the Mother's Day bulbs-----Oriental Lilies----I planted them. I read the instructions on the back of the package that the six bulbs came in. For the region I live in, the hot and humid South, planting season was May and since it was May, I was right on target. My husband bought a set of garden tools so I didn't have to dig the holes with my bare hands. I read the instructions again, not wanting to miss something. We non-gardeners have to be careful. Eight inches deep, plant one bulb, plant the next three inches from it, and so on.

I watered. I waited. I got excited when I saw a green shoot come up. It was only a blade of grass.

Each morning I went to check on my bulbs.

And then one day something that was more sturdy than a blade of grass poked out of the mulch. It was green and thick and I was sure it was a lily's stem.

We went away on a vacation and while gone, Durham had heavy rains and even flooding. When we returned a week later, the stem of that one lily was even larger. Days later a new shoot appeared.

According the the package, the Oriental Lilies are to bloom in late summer. So for now, all I'm going to see are green stalks. But each time I water those beginnings-of-what-is-to-come, I have hope that in a few months, they will look just like the picture on the package. 

Currently I am in a position of waiting. Which is nothing new, really, I am one of those who ends up waiting on something often---from the small to the extreme: A check to arrive in the mail, a kid to change his attitude and lifestyle, a friend to be discharged from the hospital, a business to take off and make money for bread and meatloaf. This month as I water the ground where I planted the bulbs, I think about waiting a lot.

And I learn. Like the bulbs, we grow. It takes time to be all we were created to be. But slowly, we do push through and push forward. We have to fight at times not to give up on ourselves and on others.

So whatever you are waiting on today, keep waiting. Use the time to grow---whether it be in patience or some other way. If you are like me, a writer waiting to get a manuscript accepted by a publisher, be strong. Keep improving your craft, write other things (like a blog post). Try not to sink into despair, which by the way, I have done, and will most likely do again in the future. I doubt the big things in life, and the small. I have to trust that the printed instructions about how to plant the bulbs were correct, and that these bulbs are really lilies and that they will look like the beautiful lily on the cover of the pouch one day. And I also have to protect them from bugs and critters that like to feast on their leaves. Otherwise, I am wasting my time watering and waiting.

Like the life of my bulbs, set-backs will happen (flooding), perhaps all you wanted will not happen (I'm not sure the other four bulbs will make a debut), and you will grow older (but hopefully in the process, much stronger and more lovely instead of bitter or eaten by bugs). If I can learn valuable lessons about myself, God, love, and hope along the way, I will become gracious and wise.

The two stems greet me every day and if they could talk, I think they would say: Keep the faith, grow on. And don't forget to smile into the sun when you are able.


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How do you handle the tough challenges of living? What works for you?  Feel free to leave a comment below.