~miss willmott’s ghost~

October 9th, 2019


Closing the Year One garden on the anniversary of our house purchase.
Over the last six months, I’ve been (some might say obsessively) tending a half acre of invasively planted land, which had been abandoned for a quarter century.


The monster bittersweet vine which enveloped and crushed the round porch, for example, inspired the delicate description of the house (by me, poorly convincing A to come see it) as having “potential, and a touch of Grey Gardens”.


This salted Shroud of Turin t-shirt, one of countless black tees I marked in this manner, earns some first garden bragging rights, I feel.

Since April I’ve:

planted a tiny black nine bark hedge (Diablo) that will some day provide privacy, tamed a forsythia hedge so overgrown two full trees were hidden inside it,


put in three trellis to cover the house meters and mapped out eleven garden beds, ridding the weed covered soil of as much bittersweet root as I could manage, then rototilling, edging, laying stone borders,


and planting foundation shrubs and trees (Oakleaf Hydrangea, Blacklace Elderberry, Smokebush, Chinese Dogwood, Whitespire Birch, Amethyst Witch Hazel),


plus perennials, grasses, bulbs, thistles (Miss Willmott’s Ghost), vines (Kintzley’s Ghost Honeysuckle, because everything is “devil” “witch” this, and “lacey” “ghost” that).


And, in the last month—after a summer slightly consumed by pretty weeds—I relented and added two tons (5 cubic yards—stopped counting at 50 wheelbarrows) of organic mulch.


Now I lay down my spade until the spring snowmelt, and offer a few views from the files. Do you see a woman’s face here too? Miss Willmott perhaps?


Comments are closed.

Powered by WordPress. Theme by Sash Lewis.