A gardener who keeps moving. Leave your laborious but fun built up garden and start over. A strange form of masochism or nonetheless meaningful? The advantage is that much later I can visit those abandoned gardens again and see what has become of it. Destroyed or raped by the next owner or abandoned and reoccupied by real nature.
A herbalist, gardener on the dool, who in between can and wants to visit his former gardens. Or at least what's left of that. Or better but live from garden memories?

Past garden Schriek.

Astonishing, exciting and emotional I find sniffing around among the remains of plants I once sown and planted there.. See how they go their own way, expand considerably or be overgrown by real nature. Southern Monk Peppers, whose bloom lines wring out through the open conservatory door; Moroccan mint, unadulterated fragrant and growing against home-high bamboo, sturdy Greek alant, Jerusalem artichokes and yellow agrimonies that maintain themselves without problems. Of course, many delicate, once coddled plants have disappeared, not everything can stand up in this violence of growth. Fortunately, I think less of the plants that are no longer there than of the herbs still present. Out of sight in this case, fortunately, a little out of the heart.

Reminder of Long Ago. Thursday, I come here today to harvest some plants for tonight's herbalists training in Haasrode and for the course of the following days all the way in Natoye. Especially the picking of the Vitex branches full of sweet scented seeds immerses me in an oriental atmosphere of a thousand and one nights, not surprising for a seed that is hormonally active. Fortunately, the plodding harvesting of underground Jerusalem artichoke tubers and alant roots brings me back to earthly reality. And half an hour later I drive away with a car full of earthly and heavenly scents, on my way to the people.

#garden

Gardens. Lost but polite.