A sense of place... #1 in a series

While in many areas of the country and the world, there is an abundance of bloom in the mid-January gardens, we in east central Wisconsin have only the covering of snow on the conifers, and the silhouettes of the trees to share on this January Bloom Day. However, in our minds and hearts it's a different matter as we consider this past season and that which is to come. I encourage you to visit Carol at http://www.maydreamsgardens.com/ on the 15th that you might have the opportunity to visit gardeners from around the world as they share what's on their minds and in their gardens in this the first Bloom Day posts of the new year. As for me, it's all a matter of retrospect...

When we started gardening on this piece of land forty years ago, I'm not certain there were any long term goals in mind. We were young and not nearly as dedicated to our new pastime as we would eventually become. The first couple of years, our time of dedication to our small yard was very limited. We knew little of the possibilities of spring, or the permanence of a proper winter garden. We weeded and toiled for a month or so each year and then let the beds return to weeds for lack of interest until the next season rolled around.

Thankfully, there were many mentors... older and wiser friends who entered our lives... true gardeners who in their lives had come to understand the power of a garden and the hold a garden could take on the gardener's life. We were blessed to visit beautiful garden spaces where we were always welcome, and little by little, we came to understand. These were passions that one shared and that had the power to change one's perspective on life forever.

It was almost thirty years ago that our love for gardening had developed to the point where we had to have more land. 

We bought the parcel of farmland adjoining our 150 year old cheese factory that in total gave us about two acres upon which to develop our landscape. Slowly, the long term goals came into perspective.

As we grew older, the influences of our youth began to creep into our lives. The legacy of parents and grandparents who gardened beautifully, the beautiful forests and mountains of a childhood home in Vermont, the little dirt roads that wended beneath a canopy of fall color...

Over time the real focus of these two acres became engrained in our minds and hearts... I have long ago come to realize that mine was to capture a sense of permanence and age in what was a barren cow pasture. Just as a model railroader would endeavor to capture the soul of a railroad line in their display, I work on a larger scale... we can now sit in the gardens and imagine that we are a part of something greater than ourselves and have become content in doing so. 

It takes a significant portion of a lifetime to accomplish this goal... we would feel guilty and self centered, were we not willing to share our vision and our joy with a great many who come to visit and soak in the object of our dedication. The majority of the photos shared in this post, have not been shared in the past. I've tried to pick pictures that give one a sense of being part of a much larger picture, as if back in the mountains of my beloved Vermont, but with a greater variety that reflects the interests of a collector of plants. This is the path that we allow our imaginations to trod. This is our "sense of place" as it were.

When we were young, how we longed for the trees and shrubs to grow faster and for the garden spaces to fill up. Now that we are much older, we long for the pace to slow down, that we might enjoy the object of our creation for many years to come.

To think that this place was once a grassy field with no more than alfalfa, dandelions, and the occasional bull thistle. I sit in awe of all the time that has passed, casting my eye on planted ground that I have myself planted... every bulb, flower, shrub, and tree... and then too... all the plants that succumbed to this experiment four decades in length. We could have been wealthier for all that was spent on this two acres, and yet this is itself a wealth beyond mere finances.

For all practical purposes, this place is our home and we are the stewards of this small piece of ground. For all we have given it, it gives back ten fold. The winters spent dreaming of what will be and the springs full of new life... the summers arrive arrayed in glorious scents and colors, and then the fall when all returns to rest and we appreciate that we can indulge in other pursuits for the months of cold.

Yet, even on days when it is just too cold to be outside... we pause at every window as we move about this old building, and we take in the view... for the garden has matured to the point of being beautiful in all seasons.

... and after every snow storm, paths are cut through the lawns with the snow blower so that the conversation between the flora and ourselves can take place on an intimate level... " how are you old friend" we imagine ourselves saying..."has this winter been good to you so far"... and we scrape bark with a fingernail, looking for bright green beneath, which is the sapling's way of saying "I'm doing just fine thank you... thank you for that extra mulch that is keeping my roots warm and that wrapping that causes the rabbits to go elsewhere for their dinner..."!

As we relax on a warm summer's evening beneath a large pine tree that was dug from a woods years ago, I wonder what will become of this place... so many gardens pass on with the passing of the gardener. There is no child of ours that has expressed an interest in the garden's future, but they are still young as well and perhaps those influences of their youth need time to swell and germinate in their minds and hearts.

How I envy the tales of gardens tended for generations in the same family... with time we will perhaps see such intentions on the part of our children or grandchildren. Even if our generation is the first and last in the life of the gardens of Oak Lawn Cheese factory, they will have served a useful purpose in bringing joy to the many who pass through them each season. Beyond that, they have taught us some of life's greatest lessons, given us perspective, helped us to appreciate... for that we will always be grateful.

We have chosen a quiet life here in the garden... there is a sense of fulfillment on a daily basis and always something to look forward to... for a very long time I wondered why so many of my good gardener friends liked to stay so close to home... now I know... one would hate to miss a single moment of the constant change that surrounds us in this special little world of our own imagining. 

I will close with more pictures from this, our garden of forty years... this place gives cause to newly and daily give praise to our Creator who has so graciously blessed us.
If you are a gardener who doesn't feel blessed by your garden, perhaps you haven't taken the time to really appreciate the miracles that grow from the earth. 'The more you give, the more you receive' is more than just a cliche... it is an ever present truth in the life of a gardener. How I anticipate those stolen moments of sitting back and savoring the gifts of the garden in its constant expression of gratitude for our efforts on its behalf. 

From Oak Lawn Cheese Factory I wish you a gardener's joy as well. Larry