Then we stumbled across it. It was almost at the edge of the street.
A sign, stuck in the ground. "Camellia bushes FREE - please give them a home."
"HURRY!"
This happened to be another one of those nice lots that Roger always loved. He loved that it had a little ole house nestled in the middle of two standard lots. He loved that it was fairly well hidden among the dense shrubbery. I called him 'hermit-blooded." He called me 'neat-nik." I thought it was overgrown, he thought it was easy, natural landscaping. Landscaped it was not!
The lot is vacant now. It was recently sold, the house bulldozed, surveyed, and a permit sign installed for the builder. More change for this little town. Will the new home fit the character of this place? Will it be another oversized McMansion? Only time will tell.
But. FREE. Someone involved is 'green' enough to care that perfectly good plants don't have to be destroyed. That is a good thing. Hurry. That means fast, right?
I can hear Roger now. He would have humored me. First he would have tried to talk me out of trying to save a plant. He would have caved though. He would have dug me three holes. He would have gotten his (my) shovel out - and taken a stab at moving these plants. But he couldn't. He is busy in Heaven.
And then there is Jim. Jim loves nature. Being in the garden, (though brutally hard work for someone who does not like the suggestion of "round-up") is restoring to the soul. I guess that is the only real reason for sweating it out so much. Beverly loves flowers and he supplies plenty for her. He reminds me a lot of daddy in that way. Daddy always kept a perfect yard, filled with blooms, for my mom. Even when she could no longer appreciate, much less see, the efforts of his labor, he still was faithful to his garden. Her garden. And then when she died, he put his tractor key away. I bet Jim will stay in the garden til he can't do it anymore. I think he tends to flowers as much for him as he does for Beverly.
My suggestion to move these plants, prompted Jim to say "let's do it" - wow! I never really expected that. I mean, who gives up their Sunday afternoon/evening to dig out old bushes to move them two blocks away? What a sweet thing to do though. These plants will be babied and I will be determined to get them growing again, mostly because of the gift of time and caring that was given to me. Beverly cheered us on - and took totally appropriate and slimming photos of the work in progress. (well, she better have!)
Jim works methodically. He protects the plants as much as possible, in order not to overly stress them. Rake around the trunk, dig a trench around the root line, keep the root ball intact, get out the weeds. Makes perfectly good sense.
Here is the contrast - which actually kept me laughing. A visual picture of this is just sooooo necessary. Roger would have possibly had on shorts and sneakers but more likely shorts and his shiny black shoes. Roger would have surveyed the scene (above) and tried one more time to talk me out of it. He would have expected to have a thermos of hot coffee nearby - even though it had to be 95, not counting the heat index. Roger MIGHT have dug a trench around the roots. He definitely would not have raked or pulled out weeds. He might have pulled out the moss. He might have pruned ⅔ of the bush away. He WOULD have tied a rope or chain round the base of the trunk and he WOULD have attached that chain to the axle of his car. And he most definitely WOULD have put a heavy foot on the petal and yanked that baby out of there. Times three.
What took Jim, Beverly and myself at least three hours to uproot and load on a pickup truck, Roger would have accomplished in ⅓ of the time.
Roger would have skipped the truck. He would have dragged that baby behind his car, for two blocks, and popped it in the hole he had dug in our yard. Oh - just picture it. My sides are aching just writing this memory.
I know this to be true because he did it with azaleas from Paul's office some 28 years ago. Some lived. Some did not.
The difference in method is the stress on the plant (and possibly the axle of his car). The difference might have been the health of the plant.
Roger's Lesson: This most certainly would have fallen in the category of "get her done before dinner" if he would have spent a Sunday afternoon doing this at all. He most definitely would have told Jim not to do this. And he would have said - some make it, some don't - that is a statistical problem.
Oi!
Men - God just has the most amazing and creative way of placing such unique people in our lives.
I still can't believe anyone would say yes to my crazy Sunday afternoon brainstorm - but I do know this.....when those camellias begin to bloom (whatever color they may be) - I will enjoy every blossom. And with each one, I will give thanks to God for the man who made me laugh every day that he was here with me - and for the friend who stepped up to the plate when he couldn't.
well - stepped in to the hole - camellia's leave big holes
He made a wonderful memory happen for the bride of his very good friend.
Though it does not seem like it at times, there are so many other times when I realize that He has little blessings all over the place, if only I will look, and if only I will ask.
I'll try to walk a little faster from now on, and try not to stop at every breath to 'smell the roses." I will check 'moving random mature bushes' off my bucket list. That should make Jim very happy, though I bet he would move them again if I asked. I will always though, wish that I had MADE you slow down enough to smell the roses with me more often. And I will think how it takes work to establish strong roots, but that it can be done, even when a plant, or a life, endures great stress.
Thanks again, Jim (and Beverly) - Roger would say "You're a good man - with a capital M!"
And I think that we are both pretty thankful that Davis stopped to lend a hand with those holes that we probably should have dug BEFORE getting the plants out. Ah - God sends blessings when you least expect it!
Rest up, my friend! I'll keep the water running!
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