An Untended Garden Still Produces Beauty

The summer morning was cool and so I wandered. Before long, I’d found the entrance to the neighborhood’s abandoned garden. After 31 years in business, Eastside Cafe had closed; the old house and grounds on Manor Road were sold; and, since early spring, the once-lush kitchen garden left alone.

I don’t know anything about Eastside Cafe’s former owner but over the years we’d lived nearby, I’d created some romantic ideas. I’d imagined she lived across the street in one of the well-kept, artful homes so close to her restaurant. That, in the early mornings, she’d wander over with a cup of coffee to survey the greens and herbs. That no matter the day, she monitored burgeoning vegetables and, at night, dreamed of fresh recipes.

In my mind, the owner strolled the path with a basket and shears, stopping to turn a spaghetti squash and twist a glowing tomato off the vine. Clipping springs of tender basil and thyme. Tucking mulch gently around the base of towering okra while admiring its exotic blooms and velvet skin. Talking quietly with her chef and gardener. Tending.

When the work was all done, I was sure the staff enjoyed a glass of wine, lounging on the garden’s wooden benches, watching lightning bugs and listening to owls. (Yes, I hear you laughing, people in the restaurant business, but I told you I had a romantic imagination, didn’t I?}

This morning, the overgrown entry arch dripped with pink coral vine blossoms. How could I resist that invitation to explore? I ducked under the vines before emerging into a field of unruly weeds.

Though paths were overgrown and proper beds undefined, the landscape remained captivating. Granted, little of the well-tended, orderly plots of that beautiful kitchen garden remained. No volunteer vegetables (at least, none I could identify) survived. But here and there, hardy blossoms poked through the weeds–clusters of tea roses, a zinnia or two, a few marigolds.

Rosemary thrives in neglect, and huge hearty bushes sprawled with abandon. Though birds had done a number on the Meyer lemons, pecking relentlessly for any moisture, the fig tree sported unblemished green fruit. Whether weeds or former plantings, busy bees harvested their pollen. The birdhouses were bustling. And those sunflowers, prolifically brilliant against the dull morning sky, stood bright and proud.

Taking it all in, I wished I had a real camera, that I were a skilled photographer who could adjust and frame and find the right light to capture all that gorgeous untamed nature. I took a few photos with my phone–and in my imagination, in the house across the street, the blinds flickered ever so slightly as someone watched.