Old Garden in Front

Someone said what separates high art from gardening is the fact that a garden does not survive the gardener. I thought of all the gardens I have known where the garden passed on or the garden was sold along with the house and gradually - or sometimes overnight - the garden was no more. And then I bought a house with an old garden. Not old by East Coast standards but old by California standards, 50 years this year.

The back yard was virtually untouched for 35 years, maybe more. The front yard was clear cut by the executor (it was an estate sale) in hopes of making the place more sellable by making it visible. So I had what, I thought, was an old garden, untouched, in back to work with and what, I though, was a blank canvas in front. Not so either way.

As soon as the rains started, the front yard started to grow. At first, some tired old fescue revived a little bit. But then what grew surprised not just me but the neighbors who swore that the lawn was just dirt and weeds before the St. Augustine grass popped up. But it must've been there all along, just barely surviving for years, a sprout here, a spring there keeping it alive. But with water, lots of water, the St. Augustine grass thrived and spread filling in all the holes in front within six months. Then the dichondra started appearing here and there. Now the St. Augustine is what most of the neighbors have in their yards but neither me nor they have seen dichondra in years and years. But after all, it is a midcentury house and what else would you put plant in 1949 but dichondra? It's an odd mix at the moment but I like it, and I know the dichondra is doomed, either by the flea beetles that killed it in the 60's or by the St. Augustine which is ruthless.

Then a bird of paradise (strelitzia reginae) popped up on one side of the house and then on the opposite side, framing the front yard. One was right behind where I had planted a new bird of paradise. Right in between the two birds, a Tropicana rose (at least I think it's a Tropicana) sprang up. None of the neighbors who garden remember seeing any of this before. Perhaps it was buried underneath all the mess.

Then right in the midst of my new succulent bed, to the right of the driveway, some aloes and a Jade Plant (crassula ovata) joined in, just in the right place, just in the right bed.

The sense of a garden past, the feeling of a connection to whomever had gardened here before me was warm, comforting, like my grandmother looking over my shoulder and nodding yes, yes, yes in approval to whatever I was doing. It was also a little spooky.

And now I'm worried. So far my garden has been blessed, everything is working amazingly well. But I have to move that rose; it's just not in the right place. And I wonder, will the other gardener in my yard approve?