Every week when I arrive on Whidbey Island from Seattle - usually first thing on Thursday morning - I head out into the garden. I know I should put away the groceries, check the mail, unload the dishwasher....but I can never wait even a moment to see what's happened in the few days I've been gone. While it's frustrating and sometimes sad not to live with my garden full-time, this thrill of discovery, of returning, never dims...I come to the garden fresh every week.
Today I still found raspberries, which have grown small but very sweet as if they contain all of summer's concentrated sunshine, and a few 'Sungold' tomatoes still hanging on the vine. I'm surprised at the flowers; helenium, hydrangea, an abundance of nasturtiums, hardy fuchsia, Verbena bonariensis, a dahlia or two and agastache are still blooming despite the cold nights...I've brought along some bright orange puffs of Japanese lantern (Physalis alkekengi), bought in Seattle, to add to the mix.
I smooth the transition from condo to house with a ritual of picking flowers, foliage, pods, branches - whatever I can find. I bring them in, plunk them into a big jug of water to hydrate, then think about how I'll arrange them while I go about all the tasks of settling back into the little Whidbey house. Then I make a cup of tea, and arrange a few bouquets so that I feel like the house is inhabited....it's a comfort ritual, pure and simple and as effective as lighting a candle, reading a book in bed, or taking a hot bath...are these left over from childhood? Probably, which is why they are soothing...
Between a spray of coral bark maple leaves in a slim black vase on the kitchen windowsill and a trio of bouquets for the bookshelves, coffee table, and bedroom, I feel at home, and can, finally, concentrate on finishing up my column for the week...

