Perseverance and long-range planning

When we moved into our house in Lower Ranchitos, I tried a lot of things when it came to gardening and planting.

Not a whole lot had been done to tame the ground, and most of the dirt on the narrow little spit of dirt had been contaminated with gravel. container gardening eventually proved to be the way to go. I have surrendered to the idea of simply managing the flow of seeds and droppings.

Four-o-clocks sprang up from thin air, ostensibly rolling off the eaves of the roof and growing along the drip line. Sunflowers from birdseed can take over the backyard close to the patio depending on my ruthlessness of uprooting seedings when they reveal themselves in early May. Catmint is an invasive ground cover that thwarts bugs and I have strategically placed a pot of it in a place I hope it spreads like an herbal virus. The same with chives, dill, and cilantro.

But my first year here I planted morning glory seeds, placed a cow skull on a shelf Rick had found in the desert (while photographing the movie shoot for one of the Terminator movies on the Gorge Bridge from Indian land) and waited.

That first year I was rewarded with morning glories. They weren’t the color I had hoped for, but they were lovely and they threatened to eventually take over the little mudroom entryway until we re-stuccoed the house and all of our plants close to the house were covered with gravel at least for one year. I see one little morning glory from season to season poke its way into the world, showing its magenta, persistent blossoms.

This year I finally printed out the old photo I took when the morning glories were in their … well … glory. I am painting it, finally, which was my intention from the very beginning. Again, I am confronted by my persistence of vision. My perseverance in the face of denying myself what has been so painfully obvious from the very beginning.