April showers bring May flowers, at least that’s what my Grandparents used to tell me. I have often counted on those showers to give my landscaping a boost. Years ago when I subscribed to the belief that I was super woman I owned a fairly large yard. The lawn did well everywhere except under the black walnut tree that had matured decades before I became steward of the property. All parts of the walnut tree contain a toxin which inhibits the growth of nearby plants. The roots contain that toxin also so growth can be affected for several feet from the perimeter of the tree. I didn’t know that at that time. But, I had a deep seated sense of optimism.
“If I could dream it, I could make it happen” was my motto. My family had been farmers and taught me many things about planting and growing. My dream was to have an English cottage garden, unstructured and profuse with carnations, hollyhocks, sweet williams and lavender. I could see myself settled in a garden lounge, under my walnut tree, breathing in the scents of the flowers. I would have a cup of tea, delicate bone china of course and a book, a classic to go with the romance of the scene. It never entered my mind that I had never seen a walnut tree in the farming community I grew up in. Not recognizing the significance of that was a mistake. My next mistake was planning my dream garden.
Planning included preparing the ground and buying plants. Still armed with the “I can make it happen” attitude I hauled in top soil, turned and conditioned the earth. The need for the feeling of accomplishment was so great I did it all myself with shovel, gloves and rubber boots. This is back breaking work but no helpful gardeners for this determined lady. Of course I didn’t want to wait too long to see the fruits of my labor so I bought mature plants and plenty of them just in case. It took several weekends and evenings after work to go from planning to finished garden. I was so tired and sore I couldn’t appreciate what I had accomplished. “Next weekend”, I told myself.
It actually took a few weeks for everything to be just right. Then I made my third mistake. I invited the wrong cousin over for tea in my new garden.
My cousin was an accomplished gardener herself and I secretly wanted to show her up just a little. All right, more than a little. It would be a rite of passage, “see cuz I can do something just as artistic as you can, naner, naner.” In my dream, she walks up my pathway exclaiming proudly how beautiful the garden turned out. She compliments me on my choice of plants and the inspired layout of the various types. The syrupy compliments pour from her mouth. As she walks in my front door my dream floats off like a puffy cloud and I come back down to Earth with the thump of the screen door closing. What did she just say?
“Plants will not survive under a black walnut tree, the juglone toxin is in all parts of the tree and will cause your plants to yellow, wilt and eventually die. The root system can extend three to four times the diameter of the canopy of the tree so I’m surprised your lawn is still surviving.”
“Oh, you spoilsport, smarty-pants” is what went through my mind. The words stayed in my head and didn’t come spilling out of my mouth but my disappointment was profound. I wanted this garden for a long time and so much work went into it. What hurt the most was hoping for acceptance from my most admired cousin. I had always felt lacking in comparison to this cousin. She was so talented and beautiful. I wanted her to express approval of me.
She was right though. The garden did not survive. Year in and year out I tried different plants, supplements and techniques and eventually everything turned yellow, wilted and died. You see, the fact that very few plants will thrive under a walnut tree was just too simple. What I believed and acted on was that my cousin didn’t approve of me. Therefore something was lacking in me and I couldn’t get my garden to grow. Putting it that simply seems absolutely absurd in the light of many years of maturing.
Now Dear Reader, do not think that I spent agonized years of sorrow because I couldn’t get my cousin to love me and my garden to grow. Eventually I got the gardening fever out of my system and enjoyed every year of try and fail and try again. Now I have a postage stamp sized yard, just big enough for a couple hearty rose bushes and my lounge chair. The book and the tea service still accompany my idyllic Saturday afternoons.
That cousin shuns the entire family now. It sounds like something deeper was at the heart of our strained tea party but why go there? My garden projects were never very special but in some ways they always were a success. They say it is the journey that counts for more than the destination.
Again, I must say it seems absolutely absurd that we humans need to fail numerous times to learn a simple lesson. Or maybe it is absurd that I have a hard time accepting that is just the way we are.
If you are like me, you are wondering how that fateful tea party ended up. This is what my memory has archived: we ate and chatted and drank tea. We laughed and gossiped and drank more tea. At sunset I carried the tea tray in to the house and my cousin gathered her purse and jacket and started down my long path. She appeared as relieved as I the day had come to an end. Just as she stepped under the mighty black walnut tree the heavens opened up. I’ve never experienced such a torrential April shower. The remaining sunlight glinted off the leaves and the rain drops splashed the black soot from the tree and deposited it all over my dear cousin.
The following month is the only month I did have glorious May flowers. And my cousin never got the spots out of her dress.
