A Message to May

Oh May! You are gone!

You are the most exciting houseguest ever- so glamorous, so full of tales of wonder, so dramatic and yes, so exhausting.

I bid you adieu with a bit of sadness but also a sore back.

You always need things to be just so in the gardens while you are here. So much planting to be done and weeding and pruning and mulching, because of course, you look your best when everything is tidy.

This year you made things extra “special” because you brought no rain. Every spare moment night and day, I watered the plants that could not survive this sort of treatment. I watered for you May, and sometimes I wondered if you noticed. Many other beloveds didn’t look their best for you because of the scorching dry heat and who can blame them? They are spring Flowers in northern New England. They don’t expect the Mojave Desert. Next year, don’t be so stingy with the precipitation. Remember your geography and your manners.

And perhaps you can talk to the winter months of December, January, February, March even April and tell them to lighten up a bit. Your stay would have been easier if I hadn’t had to clear out so many beloved dead Roses killed by those long, long, long, bitter cold, winter months.

Yes, I do need to thank you for departing with a deluge. We needed every drop of that rain. It saved your month from total disaster and also saved you from being tossed out on your heels in your party dress.

Maybe the many enormous sections of completely burnt brown lawn will come back in time for your next visit. Maybe not.

Try to do better next year. You know you need a nice green lawn to look your best so time you visit, bring more showers and spread them out.

Okay, is everything clear to you?

Just to recap.

We thank you for dressing up the gardens with gems like this


and moments like these.



They were sublime even if I saw them while running from one place to another with hoses and pruning shears.

I haven’t discussed the winds yet, but I need to. It is my fault that I picked a horrible ecological, non-petrochemical organic black mulch for the Red Shiso field that blew away in your constant, drying winds. I will pick a different mulch next year, but could you lighten up on the Sahara like dust storms?


I just took this shot of the post deluge Red Shiso garden for you May. I know it is not pretty but at least it is alive. Hopefully it is the last time I will be showing you shots of this horrible stuff. But again, look May, at how parched the soil was most of the month.


Lets not do this again. Next time, remember, more R-A-I-N! Thanks.


I don’t know if you care, May, but your final days of rain helped to germinate the Red Shiso seeds upon which our Flower Essences depend. Thanks for that final helping hand before you flounced away with your gorgeous gorgeous petticoats.