Plant Dreaming Deep by May Sarton

When I was a young girl I spent Saturday mornings wandering the aisles of Powell's Books in downtown Portland with my father Frank. Since my parents were very protective of their only daughter—and I was a good Catholic school girl—let's just say this activity persisted for many years.

One Saturday I happened upon a book with a title that really spoke to me. It was Journal of a Solitude and its author was the poet and memoirist May Sarton. At that time I was journaling a great deal, and of course I considered myself to be a solitude, so it seemed like a match made in heaven. I purchased it, read it, and I can say with certainty that it change my life by showing me more of who I was and who I could be. To this day, I still list it as being one of the most formative books of my early creative literary life. Considering how many books I've consumed over the years, this is quite a feat.

Imagine my surprise when just months ago I was reading some theoretical piece about garden literature and May Sarton's name popped up. Almost immediately I put on my walking shoes for the 4-mile roundtrip walk to the Powell's store on Hawthorne. It was there that I purchased this now precious book Plant Dreaming Deep.

It is a garden memoir of a place in time, a person and her life, and the town where she has come to live. As a poet, she writes patches that are striking and true. Readers at first do not know how to make sense of how the text works and fits together. These are the best books for my mind at least where there is a puzzle. We work to patch together the meaning of something so intimate, the thoughts and experiences of a stranger, and best of all, yes, there is a garden and many thoughts about what plants mean to her. More than anything, she bridges the divide that bothers me most about the majority of garden writing. She makes it personal. She is not hiding the fact that her ideas are opinions and her tastes are based on feelings and memories. She is an artist and she makes herself vulnerable. Gardening and garden design is not formulaic and it is not mimicry. I believe she would say that we have little control over our gardens at all and that for the time we have them, we should feel them at every available moment. They are gifts to us. At the garden's heart, like all great things, we will always find the subjects of life, death and change. It is for this reason we've spent so many years reflecting in gardens. It's just what humans do.

For Sarton—and for many of us gardeners like her—it's our heart and our minds we find when we garden. It is our spirit we grow and truly our souls we nourish as we tend to the soil. Not all gardeners fall into this group though, but if you do, and you're like me, I really recommend the work of Sarton.

Planning and Watching the Garden in June

Unknown Cistus from the neighborhood.

Finally started walking around the neighborhood again. I cannot say enough about how badly chronic back injuries need to be moved. It is amazing how intensely my back can hurt and yet a nice long walk can make it all go away. 

Still waiting for the Dracunculus vulgaris to open. 

Right now I'd love to show more of my garden but it's a bit messy yet. Right after this post is posted I will go back out there to weed, trim, and plant away. Finally, I hope to list some more plants on CL too.

Fuchsia procumbens 'Variegata'.

Still been busy indoors with "life responsibilities" so it is so great to go outside to see little blooms here and there.

Alpine strawberry, (Fragaria vesca.)

Often I stop to munch on things as I walk by since they truly are so tasty. For instance, I am such a lover of alpine strawberries.

The front porch flowerbed. 

I think that it's time for me to begin giving real tours of my actual garden. Next time we'll be starting with this bed. I show it here a lot since it usually looks ok. I will rearrange it and post pictures after this weekend. Finally, I will be blogging again about playing with some plants.

First bloom of the year on my Begonia boliviensis. 

I am really looking forward to talking more about the plants I've grown from seed too. This Begonia is a good example of that! 

It's been fun playing with my photos recently too. I do love photography. In addition to reading books about gardening and plants again, I've been thinking a lot about photography.

La vita è bella!

More Plant Adventures along the Columbia River

Just about this time last week I was having a bit of a personal meltdown so I dashed out to the Columbia River Gorge to grab a burger and a piece of marionberry pie for dinner. The plan worked.

To say that the spontaneous retreat refreshed me is an understatement.

It recharged me and then some!

The whole escape made me feel significantly better and it gave me some much needed emotional energy.

There is still simply too much reorganization going on in my life. It is all finally coming to a close though and it is such a relief.

That evening I watched the sunset knowing I would be returning to the refuge of the Columbia River basin in just a few more days.

Here I am now, at the end of that trip. I'm writing this entry just before I return home to Portland.

The gas fireplace is lit after a long rainstorm and I can see nothing but green as I look out toward the river.

I'm sitting once again in my Dad's fishing "cabin" near the Washington Coast just north of Astoria, OR.

The blog has been here before, but I do love to post new posts from here.

(Oh, and please forgive the plastic flowers. Mom has not yet been here to plant the annual marigolds.)

Lady Fern, Athyrium filix-femina. 

No matter how Italian the place appears, and despite the house's awkwardness in the landscape, nature still intrudes upon the slumber here. Luckily, my parents think ferns growing randomly here and there don't need eradication. I appreciate that attitude and I suppose I share it too.

A river runs behind the house.

Dad struggles with this painful-looking giant exclamation point in the landscape. Having given the tree to him, I'm not a big fan of this sad Italian cypress. Oh how I wish it could just be put it out of its misery! So many other native plants could joyfully take its place. Don't you agree?

Piggyback Plant, (Tolmiea mensiesii).

Yesterday—for the first time in years—I wandered around the property in search of plant life.

Deep in my heart of hearts I aimed at trying to find the uncommon (or hard-to-find) terrestrial orchid Goodyera oblongifolia. No dice.

Deer Fern, (Blechnum spicant).

Though I did not find one, I found a lot of other plants.

Even so, I've decided that in the future I'll continue to seek them out in the area. Something tells me that it'll be fun to tell people I'm orchid hunting.

For the most part I just saw a lot of the usual while being cawed at by crows who didn't recognize me. Nature can be so unpleasant sometimes.

Big Leaf Maple canopy, (Acer macrophyllum). 

I enjoyed the pre-historic feel yesterday.

Sure there are neighbors around here, but I definitely didn't see any of them.

Salmonberry, (Rubus spectabilis). 

Too bad the skunk cabbage (Lysichiton americanus) wasn't in bloom. There is honestly nothing quite like the smell of it in springtime. 

I eventually meandered into the swampy area and it was here were my paper bag full of plants exploded at my feet while I was wading in the stream.

At least the local herd of elk didn't come through and run me over.

(They travel through our property on a regular basis and when we used to camp here before the house was built they would come through while we were sleeping. It was terrifying to hear the thud of their hooves upon the ground and the branches crashing as they thundered down the hill above, through the canyon, and onward toward the river. Splashing salmon spawning nearby was a whole other experience as well. There is nothing quite like having wildlife just outside your door.)

After many years of playing in the woods of the PNW as a girl you'd think I would have known better. Paper bags do NOT like to be dragged along through tall wet grass during long walks.

After calmly extricating my little boots from the mud I emerged into the meadow on the other side of the house.

Sword ferns (Polystichum munitum) and White Inside-out Flowers (Vancouveria hexandra). 

I left my messy bag and chose to go up above the stream to the upper portion of the property. By now I'd been futzing with nature for a few hours but I couldn't get enough. I was in a very happy place.

Cow Parsnip, (Heracleum maximum). 

Oxalis oregana growing through the thick carpet of moss. 

I made it back down to the house in time for dinner. I was covered in debris from my expedition, but overall, I felt ready to face the world.

Oh groan.

Time to finish packing.

I wonder what happened in my garden while I was gone.

To be continued...

Wordless Wednesday: My Garden Mythology as Seen by Examining My Roots (Home, on the Sandy River, and in the Gorge)

Achillea 'Moonshine'. 

Sicilian Honey Garlic, (Allium siculum aka Nectaroscordum).

Lamb's Ears (Stachys byzantina) and an Armeria.  

Dutch Iris, Iris x hollandica.

Miniature Climbing Rose, (Rosa 'Clove Love and Kisses'). 

Columbine, (Aquilegia 'McKana's Giant'.) 

Clematis 'Mrs. N. Thompson'. 

Growing up beside streams and rivers in the PNW this is how I learned to arrange rocks. Funny I still do this in my garden. (Note the fly fishing going on in the background. Fish are to my family as plants are to me.)

Great landscaping at the Bonneville Fish Hatchery in the Columbia River Gorge. (I think those white flowers are Queen Anne's Lace, Daucus carota.)

Salal (Gaultheria shallon) with a delicate white bloom—such a great native plant. 

Native rose growing along the Columbia River. 

Native Sedum. 

Oregon Iris, (Iris tenax) in front of the Multnomah Falls Lodge.

Green Walls—PNW style. 

My favorite little native Mimulus still clings to the wall at Multnomah Falls. This year the population looks a bit larger.  

Had to zoom into the falls to get a closer look at the exposed roots of this tree or shrub.