When I moved to my new home, I just assumed that I would have no opportunity to garden. Yes, I did observe some sort of backyard; small and situated on a slope, but it wasn’t planted at all.

In all of my concern about moving and reducing my accumulation of “stuff,” I really thought that my gardening days were over, so I gave everything away.

It was surprising to discover, weeks after I moved in, that the property immediately adjacent to my home is actually mine to cultivate. It was only then that I took the time to pay more attention to the various entries and realized that they were all landscaped differently.

It was actually a familiar moment when I looked more closely at my new property and began to make a mental note of how I might rearrange what is there and possibly embellish it with some new plants.

I did something that I hadn’t thought I would be doing again, I visited the garden center. Granted, it was already the end of October, and the tables were rather sparsely laid out, but everything they had was half price. So I made some unexpected purchases, a few white azaleas for a showy spring bloom, some euonymus, and two spreading cypress. I felt really pleased with the bargain purchases, but equally pleased with the pending opportunity to plant them.

True to form, I began to imagine how I might completely redesign the small space, but I stopped myself from going there. I did move one fairly large boxwood that was growing too close to another shrub, but I resigned myself to just adding some small embellishments.

I looked over to the three large hosta plants, beginning to yellow in the coldish temperature, and remembered what the previous owner had told me. He pointed to them and reminded me that they had come from my own garden a number of years ago. You see, one of the previous owners had been a colleague of mine at a local university. One summer in the midst of thinning out some of my overgrown plants, I had offered plants to my friends at work. Several of them accepted my offer, and three hostas eventually were planted in Branford, right outside the kitchen window. Fast forward to now, and I have the rather unique pleasure of having plants in my new garden that came from my old garden.

Some might say that it was fated for me to move there in order to be with those plants once again.

Of course, having given away all of my garden tools except for a small trowel and rake, I borrowed a shovel from my neighbor.

I’m looking forward to doing some planting on the slope in the back yard, right off the deck. It slopes upward and is terraced at three levels. All of it combined isn’t really all that much, but it will provide some opportunities for small scale plantings and some creative arrangements. There are lots of rocks, all indigenous to the site, but I will probably add some more interesting, smaller varieties to the mix.

I know that this gardening experience will not at all rival my previous efforts, but it pleases me to know that I will still be able to look outside the window and observe what I’ve planted. Of course, I’ll be imagining how to rearrange them in another more pleasing fashion, perhaps several times over.

The things that I had thought were no longer going to be a part of my life are now appearing in small ways, and that’s a very good thing.

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