Please Don't Park on the Garden
I will be the first to admit that my dry shade garden by the side of the driveway is not the showiest. It consists mainly of Hellebores and Euphorbia robbiae, and their subdued palates are appreciated only by garden fanatics like me. Then there are those pesky bare spots. Even in spring, when it is at its best, it looks a little sparse.
I have been working at this particular section of the yard for years now. The Euphorbia robbiae is finally covering a good bit of territory and the Hellebores are filling out nicely, but all in all the garden still deserves the name I gave it long ago, The Valley of Death.
You can see that I am not delusional about my talents. This blog is called Galloping Horse Garden for a reason. Some of my gardens are pretty nice; others, like the Valley of Death, are not. And when we put our house on the market a few weeks ago, I certainly was under no illusions that my garden would help to sell the house. On the contrary: I assumed it would be at best a non-issue, at worst a liability. But I have admit that it never dawned on me that my garden - even my worst one - would be mistaken for a parking spot.
And yet a real estate agent actually pulled up to our house and decided to park her car not here:
So there you have it. Nine years of costly, backbreaking, but emotionally fulfilling labor to transform my wasteland of bad grass and hard clay into a garden, and someone thinks it's a parking spot. Could there be any more appropriate end to this Galloping Horse Garden?
Because yes, we're moving. The house sold, we bought another one in Raleigh, and Galloping Horse Garden: The Sequel will begin next month. The yard is small, but it's full sun and there's plenty of room. I envision an arbor, some shrubs, a few perennial beds, and maybe a car or two. Stay tuned.
The Galloping Horse Gardener is a native New Yorker who packed it in in 2005 to live under the radar in Cary, North Carolina. In 2014, she removed to a new secure location somewhere in Raleigh.
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