Marina's garden

A bit bohemian, Marina's is the garden of an artist that sometimes has her mind on other things.

07/04/2002
Marina's garden
On our second visit to an "everyman's"--or in this case, "everywoman's"--French garden, we have now walked across the lane from Chantal's impeccably groomed beds (see "Chantal's Garden", below) to Marina's garden. Marina is the companion of Theirry (together above, hamming it up as a certain gothic farm couple), who is Chantal's and Alain's son. Alain, meanwhile, is my companion Denis' brother. Okay, now that we've got all the genealogy out of the way, into the garden.

Marina is one of the most lovable people I've met since coming to France. She's got a wild, offbeat sense of humor that never stops short of poking fun at herself. She's also an artist. As we were all sitting together at Alain and Chantal's, sipping drinks and admiring Chantal's flowering borders, Marina piped up that she, too, had a garden, in case we weren't aware. Her garden was nothing like Chantal's and wouldn't we like to see it? Shortly after this pronouncement, she scurried off. When we finally sauntered over, she was sheepishly pulling weeds in one of the, shall we say, more natural parts of the garden.

But don't snicker. Marina's garden has a quixotic charm all its own. And it is home to some very impressive plant specimens, such as this gigantic gunnera, its bold mass sensitively placed in front of a fine textured bamboo. Of course, the proud creator of this combination has placed herself in the very front, so there can be no mistake about its ownership.

Marina's garden is as different from Chantal's--it is true--as night is from day. Marina's garden is a whimsical fantasy world, with scavenged objects ornamenting an eclectic assortment of shrubs, annuals, vegetables, and, well, weeds or wildflowers that Marina finds beautiful. In fact, with her artist's temperament, she is extraordinarily sensitive to beauty of wild plants, and even to their potential.

She led me to a huge clump, taller than either of us, that had sprouted unbid in her garden. "I've kept it," she said. "I don't know what it will turn into, but I think it will be interesting." She was absolutely right. The unidentified monster was a stunning specimen of fireweed, or Epilobium angustifolium, a circumboreal wild plant with tall showy spikes of feathery, rosy pink flowers. I love it, in spite of its aggressive self-sowing.

Marina has an unerring sense of the beauty of wild plants growing in difficult spots inhospitable to most other plants. To my delight, I spotted the dainty yellow flowers and delicate foliage of the greater bird's foot trefoil (Lotus uliginosus) growing in her swampy woodland edge (see photo at left). As I exclaimed over it, she looked at me with new respect. La petite americaine even knew a French wildflower or two. We were friends.
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Products of Interest:
Provenandccedil;al garden fork
Willow duck nesting basket
Straw brooch--'Spring Sprung'

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