Back in the early 90’s, Bill and I were doing yardwork on an impossibly balmy and sweaty April morning when my mother-in-law Elsa called us, absolutely frantic. New neighbors had moved into the old house next door. There, a pair of lovely women named Mrs. Best and Mrs. Bole had lived and gardened in beautiful harmony for decades. Their yard was a shady paradise of blooming trees and flowers. But all that was soon to change. On this gorgeous spring day, Elsa looked out her kitchen window and was horrified to see her new neighbor ripping Mrs. Best and Bole's blooming daffodils out by the fistful and throwing them in the alley. It was his yard now and he didn't want daffodils, apparently. Why would you want daffodils? Just frippery. An annoyance.
I understand a lot about the natural world, the one that works the way it's supposed to. The world of humans I will never comprehend. To be honest, I don't want to understand a thought process that leads to behavior like that. Life's too short.
Elsa was in tears. “Julie!! You’ve got to come get these bulbs and plant them out at your place! They’re all special ones, too! I can’t let them die!” She didn’t have to ask twice. Bill and I raced the 18 miles into town and picked up several grocery bags that Elsa had already gathered. They were full of sad, wilted daffodils in full bloom. We picked up every one of them from the alley, where they'd have been pulverized by passing cars. I hope that guy wondered about the three of us, down on our knees, undoing what he'd just done. He probably just thought we were saps. People who'd run around saving caterpillars, or sick birds. He was right. Saps.
As soon as we got them home I drenched the plants in cool water, and apologized profusely.
Bill, who hated injustice and waste and suffering, asked where he should dig. I spun around and pointed to a place up by the vegetable garden and the fire circle, and that good man dug a deep trench about 20' long. In it we tenderly placed the bulbs and watered them in. It wasn't long before their leaves shriveled away, but we knew that wasn't the end of them. They would come back next spring.
And oh, they did. They didn't bloom much that first spring, but in successive springs they have put on a show. And like Elsa said, they are all special ones, not a dud in the bunch. I particularly love the white one with the strong yellow trumpet. And of course the fried egg ones, and the frilly scrambled egg ones. I love them all.
Now they live here, on Indigo Hill, in a sanctuary for lost, beautiful things. They seem happy here. I have beaten the wisteria and trumpetvine back off them, year upon year. Now, with the clearing I've done, I can mow all around them. They're safe, and nobody's going to rip them out, ever again.
4 comments:
The perfect topic for now, the perfect plants - I had an uncle who planted, truly, thousands upon thousands of daffodils over the years on a slope in front of his collapsing 1860s house - he did not live there, he planted things there - apple trees, filberts, blueberry bushes and boy oh boy, daffodils. He’s been gone quite a few years now, and when my mother passed away, we sprinkled all their ashes (mom’s, george’s, and george’s beloved partner Smitty) over the drifts of daffodils.
My maybe favorite had a pale apricot-pink trumpet.
Those are going to be awesome talks! Guerilla gardening that you do is inspiring others (me too!) to get out there and have a blast.
I loved this tale of the daffodil rescue. I have rescued many a discarded or clearance plant. Many have grown over the three decades we have lived here into giants. I have daffodils blooming like mad here in southern NJ. I love them.
I'm so happy that I dug up some bulbs at the last minute before we demolished our old house.
They are now blooming in a temporary raised bed until they get relocated at the new house!
Yes, I can buy new ones but these are old friends! Loved your story.
Great story! I used to admire a mature weeping willow tree about a half-mile from where we lived. The tree was in someone's side yard, but nowhere near any structures, so it shouldn't have caused any problems. One day I was driving home and I discovered that the tree had been cut down! I couldn't believe someone would get rid of such a beautiful willow tree.
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