Page 65 of Weekends with the Sunshine Gardening Society
‘It’s been blooming for a few weeks,’ Kathy says matter-offactly, tucking her trowel into her waistband.
‘Then I guess I haven’t noticed,’ Elizabeth murmurs.
‘Can’t keep up with everything.’ Lorraine winks. ‘But you must be happy with how this is turning out. Look at it! Colour everywhere. We should call one of those gardening mags. LikeBelle, is it?’
‘Do you read those?’ Cynthia says archly and Lorraine makes a face.
‘Cora does. She probably thinks I should do our backyard like one of those gardens. As if I have the time for that!’
She turns and marches towards the end of the garden, which she long ago declared to be her favourite spot. It’s cooler there because the thick green leaves of the camellias seem to create their own little climate.
Elizabeth feels guilty that these women are all working on her garden when they could be working on their own. Lorraine doesn’t have time to tend to hers because she’s helping Elizabeth. That doesn’t seem right. Not any more. Not while all the plants are blooming, because clearly everything is working the way it should.
‘You in need of a job?’ Shirl says in her direction.
‘Probably,’ Elizabeth says softly. The others seem to know exactly what they’re doing in her garden and she’s just standing here.
‘I’m going to deadhead those azaleas.’ Shirl nods to the side of the house, where shrivelled old flowers are still on the bushes.
‘You shouldn’t have to,’ Elizabeth says, and Shirl’s response is a look that is a cross between withering and pitying.
‘What on earth is that supposed to mean?’ she says.
‘I should be able to look after this garden on my own. The plants are in such good shape, thanks to you all. It’s just a matter of maintenance from now on.’
Shirl sighs heavily. ‘If you think that, you haven’t learnt nearly enough, my girl.’ This time the look on her face is of pure pity.
‘Gardens aren’t justmaintained,’ she goes on. ‘They’re living works of art. Sure, this one looks great now, and once those gardenias open up it’ll stink in the best possible way and you’ll think it’s all wonderful. Then what?’
Shirl looks at her pointedly and Elizabeth can only shrug in response, because she’s not sure what she’s meant to say.
‘You stayvigilant,’ Shirl says. ‘Yes, there’s maintenance, but you also have to keep assessing what you have here. Maybe the pansies don’t look so good next year. What then? You might want to put something else in. Maybe the camellias don’t produce flowers. Something’s going wrong, isn’t it? You have to diagnose it.’
She sighs again, but this time she smiles with it. ‘This garden is in a relationship with you, and you with it.’ Turning, she looks Elizabeth in the eye. ‘Maybe that’s what Jon wanted.’
It’s said plainly and it has greater impact for it.
Barb said something to Elizabeth recently about how humans can often sense things far in advance of them happening – years, even. When they bought this house, Jon was so determined to create a garden that Elizabeth presumed he wanted, although he kept telling her it was so it ‘will look beautiful, for you’. It was courteous; chivalrous, perhaps. An act of tribute was how he seemed to treat it and how she was prepared to take it. Now she wonders. Because as Jon faded, he kept asking her to work on the garden. She thought it was his way of clinging onto this world – still attached to his grand project – and possibly of distracting himself from the failures of his body by focusing on the flourishing of the garden he would never see again. She didn’t consider that he might have had another motive: to keepherinthis world by offering her this relationship with nature, with beauty. Perhaps because she wasn’t ready to see it then.
She may not even be ready now – although she believes Shirl wouldn’t accept that.
‘We’ll never know,’ Elizabeth says.
‘Oh, I do,’ Shirl says firmly. ‘I’ve got a hotline to heaven.’
She nods as if she’s said the most logical thing possible, and Elizabeth starts to laugh.
‘Really?’ she says as her laugh turns into a giggle.
‘Hasn’t Barb told you?’ Shirl looks around and Barb lifts her head from the buxus she’s trimming, mischief in her eyes.
Shirl winks. ‘I’ve always got the inside track. That’s how I knew we’d get this garden right. Didn’t I, Barb?’
‘Something like that,’ Barb murmurs, and Elizabeth isn’t sure whether to take either one of them seriously.
‘Anyway, we’re not going anywhere,’ Shirl says. ‘You’re in charge of this place – of course you are – but there’s too much work for one. Your hubby might have had some nice ideas – just wish he’d thought about the load. It’s too much when you’re working and raising the kid.’ She shrugs. ‘So, time to deadhead. You with me?’
Elizabeth looks at the various Sunshine Gardeners dotted around her springtime wonderland and smiles, thinking of what they’ve all made together.
