Elisabeth Sheldon is a gardener and writer now in her eighties. Her new book, Time and the Gardener: writings on a lifelong passion, confronts (in text as well as in title) the bittersweet backdrop in which gardens and their gardeners come and go, which is that the nature of this enterprise is, after all, only ephemeral.
I was moved to pick up this book by the title, the gorgeous Pierre Joseph Redoute illustration of nasturtiums (Tropaeolum majus) on the cover, the fact that the author once studied at my alma mater, and (let's face it) because I had a gift card given to me on the occasion of my recent birthday which could subsidize the new-book, hardcover price.
It's a delightful read, and is going immediately into my "re-read" stack. Delightful, none the less for the author's matter-of-fact discussion of facing time as it both ravages and dwindles. I myself go back and forth on the question of whether it's better for the body to "go" before the mind, or the mind before the body. What we all probably hope for--a natural leaving that takes one from health to death in an instant--is mostly a matter of luck, although both my grandmothers were so lucky. Elisabeth Sheldon's thoughts on this topic:
What I object to is the steady process of gradual dilapidation: now it's the knees, then the back, and in my case the eyes. In the new system I would propose we would all go vigorously full speed ahead until our time was up, then fall suddenly on our faces, finished. Montaigne, the essayist, said he hoped Death would find him planting cabbages. I myself would like to meet Death in the flower garden--falling facedown onto a cushion of Dianthus gratianopolitanus, if it's not too much to ask.
Like the best gardening writing, this book teaches with the tone of "I'm still learning too", giving great comfort to those who couldn't keep their Caryopteris clandonensis alive either (ahem). She discusses extensively, and helpfully, the adventure of raising plants from seed (gathered and exchanged, as well as purchased), and makes this arena of gardening experience (which can be daunting and intimidating) accessible and hopeful. As for the rest of the book, I could go on and on about the beauty of her writing, which is clear while infused with character, and the wealth of knowledge she generously passes on in stories about her failures as well as successes...but this would only be a feeble echo of the chorus of praises found on the dust jacket, sung by Joe Eck and Wayne Winterrowd, and Diane Ackerman, among other luminaries.
I've had the good fortune to meet, and be inspired by, a number of gardeners who are women in their seventies and eighties, and have come to the conclusion that (don't give away this secret!) gardening is some sort of fountain of youth. Like these women, Elisabeth Sheldon exemplifies the vigor and the vision that I aspire to achieve for however long it is that I'm graced to be around.
Time and the Gardener: writings on a lifelong passion. Elisabeth Sheldon. Beacon Press, 2003. ISBN 0-8070-8556-1.
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