The yard of my house, which I described yesterday, is what I will miss most. It is where I toiled hardest, and it reflects my love for the earth. Flowering bushes and trees I’ve planted include forsythia, rhododendron, weeping cherry, weigela, viburnum, crepe-myrtle, flowering pear, dogwood (both pink and white), rosebud, gardenia, and butterfly bush. In the spring, when those plants come to life, my yard is a constant show of glory.
The house I’m moving to has almost no yard that requires tending. That was deliberate. I’m old enough now that the hard labor required to plant and maintain is beyond me. Besides, I want to spend the rest of my life writing, not caring for a house and garden. But these days, as I gaze at my beautiful land, the sadness of losing it stays with me.
My new house is surrounded by natural beauty. It backs onto a park with a stream. Wild trees are everywhere, and there is next to no lawn to care for. I will spend endless hours on my deck and patio. During good weather, I’ll eat most of my meals out of doors, as I do now, and I’ll enjoy coffee in the morning and wine in the evening watching, smelling, and feeling unbounded nature at my doorstep.
And yet— I’ll miss the cultured beauty of the house I’ll be leaving behind. The beauty in my new place will be equal to the beauty of my old. But it won’t be the same. Some of me will stay behind.