Conflict in the garden of good and evil
It’s been eight years since I walked away from my California home, turning the house and garden over to my family. I called a small condo in Big Sky home and enjoyed peace and solitude. The living was easy: A condo manager was responsible for maintenance of grounds and pool, delivering firewood and clearing snow.
Twice a year I would drive back to visit the kids. Soon I’d be pulling weeds, amending soil, replanting the granddaughter’s strawberry pot and all the stuff I missed. After years with only a few flowerpots to tend, I was seriously gardening deprived.
At my daughter’s urging I moved down to Bozeman and into a retirement home where just about everything is done for us. One resident had taken it upon herself to design, plant and maintain four enormous flowerbeds. She made it look easy. I was resigned to planting herbs and lettuce on my tiny balcony.
Last year, she and her husband moved to the Midwest to be closer to their grandchildren, leaving behind the flower gardens. What could I do but volunteer to take on the challenge? Never mind that I knew nothing about Montana plants, insanely variable weather patterns, short growing seasons and the like.
Until this week, it seemed to be going well. Then three wind storms on consecutive days knocked over the delphiniums, grass hoppers ravaged the cornflowers (centaurea), tiny green worms devoured the columbine and thrips hopped merrily among the remains.
A trip to Planet Natural, my favorite garden store, provided a ton of information and $49 worth of “eco friendly” remedies. But when I got home and read the labels, remorse set in. These products may not be toxic compared to Dow chemicals, but let’s face it; they are designed to off the pests.
In Big Sky where I was not doing daily battle with creepy crawlies, I developed a deeper sense of respect for all sentient beings. Even in California, it had been years since I’d killed anything besides a rattlesnake. I relocated spiders, floated little donut-shaped thingies in rain barrels to prevent mosquito eggs from maturing and turned the glass wasp traps into flower vases. The theory is that none of these creatures are inherently evil; they’re just in the wrong place.
But now I have a real dilemma. I still don’t want to kill anything, but the flower gardens are a source of great pleasure to older residents who have little joy left in their lives. Every day, those from the assisted-living wing are wheeled about to enjoy the beauty of nature (no mention of nurture, let alone pesticides). Does the benefit to humans outweigh the injury to non-human life?
I’m still pondering this when I notice that once the blossoms are spent, the grasshoppers move on. To where, I have no idea, but out of sight, out of mind. Back at Planet Natural, I buy four containers of lady bugs hoping their hunger will mitigate the insect invasion.
Part of the problem is that climate change has encouraged all manner of pests to move north seeking warmer weather. The past winter here was the warmest on record with the least accumulation of snow. Spring was early; summer so far is hot and dry. More like California.
While the original designer of these flowerbeds knew a great deal about Montana plants that could withstand blizzards, hailstorms, sleet and ice, she may not have had experience with plants suited to California weather. Maybe as older plants die out, I can replace them with some California natives that are resistant to year-round insect attacks. More research is needed.
Meanwhile, the eco-friendly pesticides are still in sealed containers. I’m relieved to discover the resourcefulness of insects that confine their munching to a single species. And I’m delighted with species that survive harsh winters, grow quickly in spring and bloom before pests arrive. Peonies in many colors anchor these gardens and seem impervious to any weather event. Occasionally a rain-swollen bloom will do a face plant in the mud, but otherwise they’re amazing. Bush roses, like Austrian Copper, seem not to attract aphids the way hybrids do and are covered in color. And clipping spent blooms before hips form encourages growth.
The dilemma persists but reading Pema Chodron’s books gives me insight. If the beauty of flowers brings joy to old folks, that may offset the occasional dusting. Is the dichotomy a flourishing garden or a conflicted Buddhist?
’Tis a puzzlement.