Be sure you have your tissues handy, I intend to force feelings of fervency, dish dollops of dispossession, and insult the intellect. Surely I do that last one every time I post. Let it be known then, that my family and I are moving. And, just like the afterlife, the rumors are true. We can’t take the it (the garden) with us.
Lest I be accused of inciting a riot on the streets of the garden blogosphere, I assure you all I will still be posting about the wacky, unique, and challenging topics concerning gardening (and living) in Alaska. Though we haven’t actually chosen a new house yet, we plan on moving close by our current abode. I tell people who ask me whether we’ve found a place to go, “We’re planning on moving into a tent in your backyard.” My surliness is getting the better of me.
It’s official: we’re out on November 9th. Now the sensible gardener would have lifted and transplanted all favorites to an obliging friend’s garden for safe keeping before the temperature outside plunged to a balmy 40 Fahrenheit. Never one to shy away from new frontiers in poor planning, the LFG rammed all her treasures into two holding beds and a smallish finished compost pile and put some very legal-sounding mumbo jumbo about “coming back in the spring for the designated garden goodies” into the sale contract.
I don’t want to come back. I want a clean break like ripping a bandage off in one quick swipe. I love this garden but I don’t want to see it ever again. I feel like it’s at it’s peak now and couldn’t bear to see it decline. How’s that for thinking positive?
Ten years of pondering the garden’s layout. Ten years of digging, deeply. (Or at least as far as the combination of silt and construction backfill will allow.) Ten years of anticipation in spring, appreciation in summer, and fond adieus in autumn. Ten years of study and planning during the long winter months.
Lots of sweat, some blood (adventures with sharp Felcos), and tears (hammers involved). To say nothing of the money…oh, I can’t keep quiet about that! Lots of money no doubt better spend elsewhere. Preferably on something I could take with me when I move. I’ll have to take the altruistic point of view and think of the joy and beauty it provides my neighborhood. It’ll have to do.
I guess that means I have about two weeks to pack. Not to mention the idea of living out of plastic bins and rubber tubs for the next two months. I hate moving….
Ever moved? Left a garden you loved/loathed?