Replanting my Chinese Garden...
I moved my collection of old temples to new places and they're already resonating in the breeze. A cast iron bird bath became a watering hole for visiting birds who flapped their wings and splashed till they were almost too heavy to fly. Neighbors gave me plants,
I walked early morning with my dog Honey, picking up discards. One morning I was dragging a large cluster of bromeliads home… and my neighbor sang out, Oh, you’re walking your plant! New life, new color, new spaces enjoyed… newly.
After Albert's death, my yard became my comfort and solace. Pavers from an old patio someone discarded became a cascading waterfall with a miniature Chinese temple residing on top. The 5-foot Sansevieria swords dug up from my neighbor’s house stood like tall sentries beside a colorful broken-tile-topped concrete bench he left behind, with a magnificent freshly painted black Buddha head meditating on top.
My handyman Donald covered the barren ground with a stream of smoothly worn river rock. And, every discard I found magically fit in. Walking yellow Iris began producing clones that dropped to the ground and waved in the breeze. A small clump of Lemon Grass became a tall forest of fragrant herb for morning tea and tangy soups.
The magic of fantasy and imagination was everywhere in my bamboo enclosure. Tiny clusters of native groundcovers I dug in after rain soon covered the ground in a lush green, soft carpet under foot. That corner of our jungle yard was no longer sand and rock, no longer barren, but full of new life. And a stray Mama Kitty found her way here and had six kittens.
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