As one might gather from perusing this scattershot of writings or a quick walk through my garden, I plant what I like… and then figure out a plan later. And much of my garden is self-referential. For example, I have only one rose in my garden. It is the Dark Lady – and it was selected for its connection with Shakespeare and his sonnets.

I also have a prickly pear cactus (opuntia) in the garden. There was an article in the Boston Globe that discussed a nursery that specialized in such plants. So I wandered over there and purchased one. It has had an unusual life in the garden. While still in the pot, it was rudely attacked by a squirrel who chewed off several of the “pads” or nostle. I found them littered on the ground. Being a somewhat lazy gardener, I didn’t immediately throw the pads into the compost but lay them close by. About 10 days later, I noticed two things – the pads hadn’t wilted and they had started sending down roots.

Eventually I planted these pads into the soil and watched their progress. They are wonderful plants that thrive in benign neglect (a favorite way of gardening). Every fall, they crumple upon the first frost and look as black and wilted as a victim of the plague. Then in the spring, they revive themselves and by May, they are robust once again. Over the years, they have also mulitplied so I have perhaps a dozen of the plants.

In the past 2 years, I have been blessed by blossoms on the cactus. They are wonderful flowers which resemble a rose.

Which brings me to the reason that I wanted the plant: one of favorite movies is The Man Who Shot Liberty Valance, a John Ford film. It is a flawed but extraordinary film about the West, the civilizing of frontier life – and also about the power of love.

The story is complicated and I don’t want to spoil it for anyone who hasn’t seen it. Suffice to say that a prickly pear cactus, mistakenly called a desert rose in the film, plays an important role in stating what a man could not say – and ultimately what a woman had to say as her last response.

For those of us who are John Ford fans, the poignancy of these last scenes is accentuated by the soft strains of music from “Young Mr. Lincoln”, an earlier Ford film. The music was written for the scene where Lincoln sat by the grave of his one true love, Ann Rutledge. The message of lost love is the same.

Which is why these cacti have an honored place in my garden.

Once in awhile, they make movies for grown-ups. This is one of those times.

Last Sunday, I had the opportunity to see “Up in the Air”. It is currently in limited release with the full release later this month. Directed by Jason Reitman (“Juno“, “Thanks for Smoking“) from a novel by Walter Kirn, “Up in the Air” tells the story of a corporate down-sizer, Ryan Bingham (George Clooney). Smart, observant and effective, Bingham is an odd amalgam of empathy and distance from people. The film is very current – and both very funny and tremendously sad. Bingham – and the film – evolves in ways that are surprising.

And I found a tremendous amount of myself reflected in Bingham. I will be seeing it again.

The area closest to the street in a New England community can be very tough on plants. Even in those communities that don’t use salt to de-ice the road, the chemicals of the winter roadway discourage good growth.

I had noted that a very popular plant in the landscapes around corporate headquarters and shopping malls was this plant with sword-like leaves. A quick review of the local nurseries and voila: a yucca (yucca gloriosa variegata). I decided to add it to the front area of my new sun/English garden area. Although I recognize that it isn’t likely to be found in most English countryside gardens, I wanted some variation in foliage as well as color in the area. 2008 was its first year in my garden.

In July of that year, I got together with my old college buddies at the home of one friend in southern Connecticut. He has a home right on the bay, perhaps 200 yards from the shoreline. In that area between yard and beach, the growth includes yucca plants. These plants were blossoming with spectacular spikes of white flowers. I was hoping that I might see this show in a few weeks.

About 3 weeks later, the plant’s spike of flowers appeared. And then came the complications: once the blooms are gone, the 3-4′ spike in the middle of the plants is quite ugly. Further, it is a thick, fibrous stalk which is difficult to cut. And with these razor sharp spikey leaves, it can also be a bit of a challenge to cut.

And the story gets more complicated: the plant loses its shape with the spike. When spring 2009 came around, the leaves were brown and very unattractive. I wasn’t sure that this was a good idea for the  front of the garden. However… it is a tenacious plant. A quick survey of the literature on-line finds the words “invasive”, “impossible to remove” and other cheery thoughts describing this plant. Apparently, it has a tap root which may extend as much as 5′ into the soil.  Various on-line stories describe using various herbicides – including gasoline and fire – to destroy the plant. And it comes back.

So I decided to try to make it work. I cleaned out all the old leaves and pruned back some others. And the plant behaved very nicely. There were no blossoms this year (which was fine) but the shape of the plant was very nice. And the colors were sustained until the first snow this December. So I’m pleased with the plant… but vigilant.

Why I watch television:

This garden year was odd. I didn’t start my seeds early enough. However, I had more plants in the soil that I had started from seed than ever before.  And they grew well. A variety of coleus, impatiens and the morning glories (above), in particular, were quite successful.

And it rained. And rained. And then rained some more. With very little sunshine until August. And then the summer returned to something close to normal. The flowers exploded in blossoms. Like these marigolds.

Once again, I was more ambitious about the garden than my time or energy allowed me to be. So I started an English country garden in the front – which would get a gentlemen’s “C”. And the peace garden was spectacular in some areas – less so in others. Still needs work.

But given climate and other challenges – the garden was fairly successful in 2009.

As I sat working at my computer, I would hear a rodent working hard in the ceiling space above my basement office. Back and forth. Scraping away at something.

And every morning, around 8 AM, a chipmunk would emerge from my back porch and head over to the bird feeding area.

So a week ago, I called upon my trusty “Have-a-heart” trap. I set it up in the general path of my chipmunk’s travels… and waited.

The next morning, the chipmunk sat on the back step for about 20 minutes, just staring at the trap. Then he ran around it and off to his feeding area.

On the second day, he cautiously walked around the trap several times. Then he jumped up on the trap – and amazingly, did not set off the very sensitive mechanism. He studied things from that perch – and then ran off.

It poured the next day and nothing went out that day.

On the fourth day – VICTORY. I picked up the trap and brought the rodent to a nice conservation area about 6 miles away.

 

And since then, there has been silence in the ceiling area.

It’s now officially fall and my garden is overrun with leaves. I have more leaves in my yard than anyone else. It’s true. As a matter of fact, I have more leaves in my yard than there are grains of sand on a beach. You’ve read it here on the internet so it must be true.

With the falling of leaves, there comes the sound of the soft, methodical rustle of the raking the leaves. Or perhaps the jet engine whine of a leaf-blower. Makes one nostalgic for the fall, doesn’t it?

In the middle of this sea of brown, there is the perky little color that pops up right about now. It is my toad lily which is now a three year resident of my garden.  The toad lily (tricyrtis formosana, for all of the scholars) blossoms in these delicate, one-inch flowers in the fall. These shade-loving perennials allegedly like loamy, moist – not damp – soil. Which is great because I planted mine in poor, somewhat rocky soil that may dry out when I forget about them. So these plants survive with neglect as well.

And then they blossom when all the hostas, coleus and impatiens plants have wilted into a crispy brown with the chill of the fall. The colors are brilliant – although small – and they stand out in the otherwise colorless garden. But the fact that they burst forth now, it’s like the couple that shows up at the prom at 11:30. Ok – you’re beautiful and all but… where were you when everybody else looked good?

This story has been around for awhile but, as is often the case, I’m a little late to the dance.

Life, as President John Kennedy, once noted, is unfair. What he did not say is that it can also be cruel. But within that harsh reality, there are moments of awe-filling grace. Such is the case of Elena Desserich.

In late 2006, Keith and Brooke Desserich were told that their beautiful five year old daughter, Elena, had inoperable pediatric brain cancer. The diagnosis: 4-5 months.

The only error in the diagnosis was the time: she lived another nine months, leaving her parents and her younger sister, Grace.

A few days after her death, her parents found a remarkable surprise – a note from Elena that she had hidden away. And then another note. And another. The notes were simple messages. “I love you Mom Dad Grace” “I love you Grace. Go. Go.” And the notes kept popping up. Inside books. Hidden in the Christmas decorations. Tucked away, hidden from view. They found three boxes of notes.

Keith and Brooke decided to publish a collection of the notes along with their diary of Elena’s last year so that Grace might have something to remember her older sister.

The privately published book was picked up and is now published for all to read. Both Keith and Brooke keep one note from Elena on them at all times – unopened. They don’t want the messages of love, of beauty and bravery, of encouragement to cherish each moment, to end.

Their book, Notes Left Behind, can be purchased on their site, Amazon, Barnes & Noble or Borders.

He’s contemplating what the future will bring.