there has been magnificent gardening going on at our house, a real team effort of full support from marty, wishes and plans expressed by me, and shopping, planting and care - the real bulk of the work - coming from terry. because it is all so gorgeous and new, visitors, friends and caregivers have shared a lot of thoughts and preferences when it comes to gardening. i have especially been tuned in to people's opinions about annuals vs. perennials.
all of this conversation has been going on around my bed in the context of the new garden - it is a knock-out, if i do say so myself. everyone involved in the gardening buzz knows about my illness and prognosis. yet the only people who really seem to get it are terry and marty (julia and sam don't count because while they ooh and aah over the pretty flowers, they're not into plants). there is a prevailing view that perennials are superior to annuals because of course they last longer, returning year after year, whereas annuals, no matter how beautiful, have only a season.
like me, in all probability.
a few times i have wanted to call out, do you know who you're talking to? or more likely, talkng over or around. is it such a sin, such an awful waste of money, to buy something that can only be enjoyed a few months? because there are some exquisite flowers, annuals, that can't be topped by perennials for beauty, cheer and color. some friends go on to point out that there are perennial varieties that don't bloom the first year or more, but no worries, they're worth waiting for, dropping in this factoid with no apparent awareness of what i'm facing.
i have always loved and planted annuals, decades before ALS. my favorite flowers are perennials - hydrangea, peonies, lilacs, and in california, calla lilies, poppies and fuchsia. and we're not gardening only for me - i want perennials for marty to enjoy for years to come and whenever he sees them, be reminded of me and that i was - and am - thinking of him and his future whenever they bloom. but still.
what i really mind is not the miserliness in some of the comments people make, nor even their insensitivity to all the conversational implications about me they seem to miss - but what seems to be missing most is a penchant for short-lived beauty, ingredients for a fuller life - indulgent pleasures, dripping joy - flowers that bloom for a summer, the singular night of the full moon, the small season of a firefly.
