Requiem to a Willow

I sat beneath a willow tree,
Where water falls and calls;
While fancies upon fancies solaced me,
Some true, and some were false.

On this first fleeting day of Spring,
For Winter is gone by,
And every bird on every quivering wing
Floats in a sunny sky;

On this first Summer-like soft day,
While sunshine steeps the air,
And every cloud has gat itself away,
And birds sing everywhere.

Have you no purpose in the world
But thus to shadow me
With all your tender drooping twigs unfurled,
O weeping willow tree?

With all your tremulous leaves outspread
Betwixt me and the sun,
While here I loiter on a mossy bed
With half my work undone;

Slow wind sighed through the willow leaves,
The ripple made a moan,
The world drooped murmuring like a thing that grieves;
And then I felt alone.

I rose to go, and felt the chill,
And shivered as I went;
Yet shivering wondered, and I wonder still,
What more that willow meant;

That silvery weeping willow tree
With all leaves shivering,
Which spent one long day overshadowing me
Beside a spring in Spring.

Excerpted from "In the Willow Shade"
by Christina Georgina Rossetti

Resilience

Take these daylilies, for instance. They don't look like much right now, do they? Daylilies are resilient plants, hard to kill even. They thrive in this hot dry spot, even planted in rocks. They're self-sufficient. Sure, they need to be divided every few years. OK, I know, their foliage is messy. I didn't say they were perfect. Clearly, they don't look great in winter. But they really don't take much, and in June they'll be glorious. And they'll survive most droughts even if you never water them. They need a little attention to be their best, but even without care they come back every spring.

Some plants struggle no matter how well you care for them. You can tell from the start they don't like it in your garden. No matter when you plant them or how much you water, they're wilting by afternoon and soon wither and die.

You consult your books, go on Amazon, buy a few more. You wrack your brain and burn up the internet searching for answers. Not much will thrive in the hot dry shade tangled in 40-year old roots.

One spring day the Johnson's Blue you carried from gardens ago just up and disappears. A resilient plant, you're convinced it will make it. You find just the right spot, just enough sun. You amend the planting holes and divide it, and water in well. Then you have lunch. By the time you come back your geraniums are gone, dragged away by evil yard monkeys who steal more of your plants than the maples kill.

Unexpected storms come out of nowhere. Some are more predictable. There's an ominous feeling when sky turns green. You gather lightweight items and head for cover. On days like this you miss your screened porch.

No matter how hard you try, no matter how well you plan, no matter how many evil yard monkeys you swear at or how well you amend your soil, no matter how much you think you know or how well you tend your garden, there are forces of nature outside your control. You wonder sometimes if this garden is worth it. In spring you begin again.