Excerpt from IntroductionLike so many of us, I had more than a few sleepless nights at the beginning of the pandemic. I would lie in the dark fretting over the future, the safety of my loved ones, and the precarious state we now found ourselves living in.
Historically when faced with a challenge, I have relied upon my theory that answers are lighter than issues. I like to believe that if I lie still enough in the dark with a quiet mind, the solutions I am seeking will slowly float to the surface, revealing themselves like little bubbles in a glass of champagne. I can’t tell you where or when I learned that if you are trying to prevent a landslide, you need to plant vegetation to help retain the soil. But clearly that little nugget was lodged somewhere deep inside my brain, for just as the ground was starting to slip out from beneath my feet, instinct told me to grab some seeds and a shovel.
Although creating our side garden wasn’t a new idea, it finally felt like the right time. My husband, Paul, and I had been wanting to tackle this project for several years but somehow, between work, travel, and the demands of everyday life, the opportunity never arose. Perhaps every dark cloud really does have a silver lining. Building the garden would give us the much-needed distraction and focus we craved, and provide a goal to work toward while we waited out lockdown. It was a small piece of our world we could control.
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Our side yard is a funny spot that few are even aware exists. You can’t see it from any vantage point other than its actual entrance. With its southern exposure and protected position, it was an ideal spot for a garden, but any efforts in the past to use it proved unsuccessful because we’d always forget to water. As they say, “out of sight, out of mind.” Ultimately our forgetfulness would be remedied with an irrigation system, but not before a lot of other steps.
Paul and I measured the space and agreed upon a layout of raised planters on a bed of fine pea gravel, just as we’d seen many times throughout our travels in England and France. If the pandemic was going to keep us home, at least we still had the memories of so many other wonderful gardens to draw inspiration from while we built ours.
I felt confident that my choice of using few but consistent elements would create the space I desired. Varying shades of gray in a variety of materials would ultimately act as the perfect backdrop for the bounty of vegetables and flowers that I hoped would one day fill it.
I made some calls. As luck would have it, Lou, the fence guy, was available. As was Leon, the handyman, and Aaron, the painter. All of them were happy to take on a project that allowed them to work outdoors independently while still abiding by the necessary restrictions. Bit by bit, the structure of the garden started to come together. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t a lot of work, but something amazing was developing there. Upon entering the garden, all the stress and worry brought on by the state of our new normal would magically start to dissipate.
Even the grueling act of shoveling buckets of pea gravel or lugging endless bags of dirt somehow became tranquil and relaxing. Paul might argue this, given that the division of labor wasn’t always equal, but both of us agree the creation of the side garden was one of the most rewarding projects we’ve ever taken on. Believe me, after thirty-five years of marriage and nine different homes, we’ve had our fair share. While I encourage gardening with your spouse, I highly recommend you avoid wallpapering or assembling anything from IKEA.
Copyright © 2024 by Rosie Daykin. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.
