Cultivating Delight: In Cape May County, Gardens Are Stronger Than the Storms

“I enter a zone of transcendence, in which I marvel … how amazing that a few basic ingredients, the same ones that form the mountains, plants, and rivers – when arranged differently … could result in us … I find it interesting that, according to many religions, life begins and ends in a garden.” ― Diane Ackerman, Cultivating Delight: A Natural History of My Garden 
As I rush from city responsibilities to our beloved marshlands cottage, my welcoming committee is usually the damp smell of marshland air. Sulfur bombards my awareness as I come to Stone Harbor Boulevard. 
Not only does the island air smell fresher, it IS healthier than city air.  Health must matter to each of us. High oxygen levels enhance physical well-being and have been linked to better health, including lower return risk of cancer. Every physical system thrives on the oxygen provided by fresh outdoor air, which often provides lower pollutant levels. Thank fresh air for allowing you to live daily.
Flowers are less of a necessity … or are they? In 2009, when we rebuilt the cottage that hovers at water’s edge, we installed 40 feet of flower boxes over the marshland waters. Now red Mandeville bloom willy-nilly all summer every summer. Each morning, I pull the blinds to greet an army of red-uniformed soldiers, standing at attention or waving in the wind. And, on hectic Stone Harbor Boulevard, we have installed large white boxes filled to overflowing with gigantic red hibiscus and periwinkle lavender. These hardy souls consider the traffic dirt no hindrance to voluptuous bodies and a heady smell.  
But, lest you take our riches for granted, many winter storms have devastated our natural resources. “Stronger than the storm” is proclaimed throughout Stone Harbor for a reason. In Spring 2013, all was askew on Stone Harbor Boulevard, where Hurricane Sandy and a nameless nor’easter turned front yards into trash piles. That spring, when then pup Oakley Anderson and I walked the neighborhood, a neighbor, hauling a weekend of sorted debris, called out to ask, “How have you done in the storm?” I replied that we have been very lucky. Because we had: our plants died and our boathouse floor got wet. That’s all. Details compared to other disasters.
On our walk, I was surrounded by ravaged front yards. The tiny deep gold mums and climbing pink Mandeville on a neighboring cottage’s front walk were dead, replaced by weather stripped paint and moist plant refuse. The shabby remains of last summer’s gaily floating docks waited by the road for pick up on large trash day. I had to caution Oakley against chewing on dangerous pieces of damaged wet lumber. I was deeply saddened by the grueling task of returning these homes to normal. Our neighbors treasure their view of rippling water and towering green grasses topped by oval white birds floating on a blue sky all summer. There was much work to be done in 2013, and it has been done.
This summer, I planted climbing white hydrangea for the first time ever: intricately curving small green leaves wind their way from one flower to another. In deep contrast are the large blue hydrangea that rules the front planters: their large periwinkle flowers command attention from all but the red Mandeville that inhabit every corner they can find all summer long. 2013 seems long ago, but who knows what 2018 will bring?
It is all too easy to overlook the importance of our natural and uncontrollable elements like air and water. In Cultivating Delight, naturalist Diane Ackerman alerts us that we are unable to control ever changing life elements such as the seasons, the air we breathe and the inhabitants of our gardens and states that our gardens offer us firsthand experience of the beauty of impermanence.
Ackerman states that life, according to many religions, begins and ends in a garden. Husband John and I have cultivated a row of boxed but boisterous red Mandeville hovering over the marshlands, offset by the graceful beauty of the great white egret gliding overhead. Embedded in the lush green of the summer grasses and the soothing blue of the summer sky, what could, indeed, matter more? Like author Ackerman, I find myself in awe of the garden’s beauty in chaos and order. My joy is palpable, and I am filled with admiration for the growth that passes through my hands each summer as I tend my modest marshlands garden.
To consider: This summer, take a minute to note which forces of nature matter most to you. Literally and figuratively take a deep, fresh breath and smell the fledgling spring flowers. And, stop and think: Is the air I breathe and the garden I walk through part of what matters most? If so, please take a moment to feel fortunate.
To read: Diane Ackerman. Cultivating Delight. Harper Collins, 2006.
 
Coche is a clinical psychologist who can be found at The Coche Center, LLC, in Stone Harbor and Rittenhouse Square. She can be reached through www.cochecenter.com.