Shiloh-on-Hampton

Greetings! Thank you for visiting Shiloh-on-Hampton, my garden on the web. My real garden, a postage stamp version of Eden, is also called Shiloh-on-Hampton. It's late summer as I write this, and the hydrangeas, pink turtlehead, and garlic chives flaunt themselves with abandon to the cicadas’ call. There are probably a few weeds and a shriveled leaf here or there, but I’m not looking that closely any more.

This isn't a gardening blog, per se, although you will probably notice that when I do write, there is a preponderance of garden references! I don't consider myself a gardener, yet I feel as though I couldn't survive long on the planet without a garden in my life. So, when I moved into a new place two years ago, I promptly hired a talented gardener who could help realize my ideas within the close borders of the wooden fence.

There is so much peace to be found in a garden, isn't there? And yet that the peace is dynamic, not static. A little chaos (have you seen the lovely film by that name about a woman gardener in the time of Louis XIV?). Mulching to do, leaves to discard, weeds to pluck, shrubs to prune, and roses to dead-head. Like everything else in this world, a garden takes tending. A lot of tending. I had the idea that if I worked with a professional from the design to installation and ongoing maintenance, that my garden would be pretty much perfect, year around. It’s lovely, but it is not perfect. When I am bothered by the imperfect or incomplete, I remind myself I could have planted faux flowers, and even those would have faded eventually.

My attitudes about my garden have been mirrored in my attitudes about my writing. I’ve struggled with perfectionism and writer’s block for years. I’ve worked with writing instructors, tutors and coaches, honing my habits and experimenting with forms. And none of my work seems good enough to put out into the world, in much the same way that my garden seems flawed when I look too closely. Yet, I’m coming to believe that musings, reflections and stories that occupy the imagination must find roots and be allowed to grow, even if imperfectly. They can be enjoyed without being perfect, just as a garden can. They might even come to flourish with tending over time, as with the shrubs in my garden. But they first need a place to do it.

And Shiloh-on-Hampton is that place. Perhaps it is in the imperfection that the soul of a place or piece can enter, who knows? After all, a story requires tension and conflict to exist. So even while the things I write here will be from a peaceful place, you might notice that not every conflict has been resolved. I am learning to "be patient toward all that is unsolved in [my] heart and try[ing] to love the questions themselves," as Rilke expressed. Just as I am learning to appreciate the beauty in spite of, or perhaps because of, the imperfections in my garden, I am learning to let my words take root in the world.

My kitchen overlooks the garden, and I find myself gazing out the window multiple times during the day. Sometimes, guests and I enjoy a brunch or teatime al fresco, and my pup Toby joins us to appreciate the sights and smells and hopes for a handout. If you were a guest in my literal garden, I might ask you: What is growing in your garden, literally or figuratively, in this season of your life? Are you happy with it? What would you change? Can you overlook the imperfections to appreciate the beauty? Since we are meeting in my virtual garden, I hope you'll drop me a line to let me know.

Blessings,

P.P.S. If you are looking for a garden blog, why not check out my friend Jo's Garden-Lou! Your place for all things garden in St. Louis. I call Jo my garden's fairy godmother. Shiloh-at-Hampton, the garden, would not exist without her vision and efforts! I'm deeply grateful to her for help to make my dream for a tiny cottage garden a reality. I suppose that, in an indirect sense, she is also something of a muse to my garden on the web! And her own cottage garden? Well, let's just say it is practically perfect in every way!

Photo: Selfie taken at Bartam's Garden in Philadelphia against a backdrop of pink turtlehead, 2019.