By DEE BLAIR
Snow blankets the sleeping garden. Chocolate-brown sedum, etched in white, is lovely. I smile, remembering ...
Every season one soul gets a thrill out of smuggling in a little dog, hidden, perhaps, in a small stroller, or large purse. In early October, glancing out my kitchen window, I noticed a generously sweatered older lady on the Folly path by the alley gate, studying the riotous flowers and swaying grasses growing happily there. She stood quietly for some time, her broad back to the house, then stooped to admire, I guessed, the multi-colored charms of the lovely Lantana winding among colorful mums, petunias, and sedum.
I began folding laundry while enjoying an ancient movie featuring long-dead actors standing too close to each other, sporting fedora hats and double-breasted, striped suits, talking fast, stabbing the thick air with cigars. Occasionally I glanced idly outside; the visitor hadn't moved, and was still looking down. Profuse flowers obscured her lower body.
Some time later she'd vanished through the thick, soft evergreens that partially obscured the Ram's Head Garden's entrance. I'd been too fascinated by the shoulder-padded, big-bowed, doe-eyed Loretta Young on screen to note precisely when.
The film finished; padding outside to check on a huge potted plant announcing the stone path to the Brick Walled Garden, I sniffed fresh manure. There, nestled in the creeping Jenny, was a pile of still-warm doo-doo.
Instantly, her behavior made sense. The lady had smuggled in a small, probably elderly dog, and together they'd made their furtive way through the flora and fauna. I had to admire her stealth.
Sighing, I scooped up the offending pile; urine damage would manifest, soon enough.
At least the dog was small ...
Later that afternoon a small child rang the front doorbell. I'd seen her here before, wandering the paths, carefully sniffing perfumed blossoms.
Apprehensively she held up a large piece of "Autumn Joy" sedum wearing its gorgeous pink 'broccoli' flower; a fleshy, broken stalk supported healthy leaves. Responding to my frown she said, in a rush, "This got broke -- I found it on the back path an' I took it but thought you might think I did it but I din't an' I don't want you mad at me 'cause then you might not let me come back an' look at the fairies an' stuff ." She sighed, shifting nervously.
I remembered that sedum, prone to leaning; a squirrel had probably done the snapping. A little earlier he'd been frolicking out there, zipping up and down the wooden fence and dashing through the flowers to impress another squirrel. I'd cleaned up other messes caused by that frisky, black-coated, bushy-tailed villain. This anxious little girl wanted me to know that she hadn't broken the flower. Smiling, I told her what had probably happened, and thanked her for clearing up any possible misunderstanding. Her freckled face broke into a smile of relief, and she bounced down the stairs with a spring in her step, clutching the unlucky sedum, eager to pop it into water at home.
Funny how it's adults who commit garden sins; I have never caught a child willfully abusing our trust.
It has actually been a fine year. Nobody had waded in the big fountain pool, and no photographer had moved into the flowerbeds for better shots. Delighted visitors had properly supervised toddlers all summer.
This child's need to set the record straight double-canceled that dog-lady's shameful behavior. I went to bed warmed by my own smile. In spite of media laments, parents, at least around here, seem to be doing a stellar job.
Sunnybank Gardens, 325 Sixth St., Traverse City, have closed for the winter. The gardens will re-open on Memorial Day weekend, 2009. Please call 929-4351 to schedule next year's events. Visit Dee Blair's Web site, deeblair.com for recent columns, garden photos, and her music, or e-mail her at blairdee@gmail.com.
