Out of the dark ages…..

by Rheasq

Today I transplanted two shrubs. One was a viburnum that “volunteered” into my yard, of course in the wrong spot. About five feet tall, I had to wrestle through creeping sumac and tree roots to remove and rehome it. The second shrub for relocation was a beautiful pure white rose of sharon, called White Chief. I planted this pup a few years ago. This year, for some reason I noticed it had grown ‘wonky’. This roughly eight foot shrub was growing at almost a 45 degree angle.

I was flummoxed by the growth trajectory of this beauty. It needed to be moved and righted as it was now tangling with other shrubs in my mixed hedgerow.

After completing that fairly daunting task, I was thinking about how it had come to grow at such an extreme angle. Had it shifted after planting? Did I plant it so the crown was pointed almost due east? Did she just decide she didn’t like her circumstances and was moving on out?

As I thought about it, my brain said, ‘you planted it in the Dark Ages, that’s why you don’t know’. The Dark Ages.


The Dark Ages. Five years. Followed by 1+ of treading water and getting bearings, feeling the waves kind of subside.

As I considered my Dark Ages, it dawned on me what followed the Dark Ages.

I am singing again and the voice is getting stronger, the musicianship is becoming clearer and easier. And the garden?

I am going out on a limb here, but here goes. There is a lot of research in the sentience and empathy of plants. Go ahead and laugh, you’re welcome!

Plants are now shown to recognize specific predators so they can respond with the appropriate defense. They recognize family groups, they recognize beneficial beings other than themselves. I have had a lifelong belief, well before this scientific research, that plants know we are here. My modus operandi has long been not just to talk to my plants, but to speak to them specifically, to touch them much like one might a good friend.

The spring of 2017 has been off the charts, everything is lush and big and robust, despite a late frost. Intellectually, I can argue it’s because of the early spring, combined with a mild winter. Or even the cumulative result of several mild winters.

This year I feel “awake”….is it possible, the garden has been biding in the Dark Ages and now it’s awake too? Does it feel its mistress awakening and know the time is now?