They're the first thing I check each morning. I notice the roses first.

...if I see a flower that's gone over I must get out there and dead head it... I was even doing that today in a garden I visited.. none of my business really but impulse got the better of me... I absolutely love dead heading and tying things in..

... I also check to see if any buds I spotted yesterday that weren't quite there yet, have now opened.... if so I make rather strange noises in appreciation... it's a language all of itself...

....incidentally, I have to get used to this 'yard' business. It's quite strange for us here I think to have a garden referred to as a yard.... I know that's how you all talk about it over there, but for us here, if a British person came visit me and said ''I love your yard''... I would give them a very strange look indeed... (it's something of an insult... a yard to us is a back yard usually with old outside toilet, unkempt and rough - washing line and weeds)....

...however, I do understand when it emanates from the other side of the pond... you sound as though you have a wonderful yard going on there Cynthia.... a lot of work but worth it I'm sure...

I'm a compulsive dead header. I've been known to dead head other peoples roses without even realizing it. I've dead headed some of my own crosses by accident I'm so obsessive. However, I don't see the dead heads first. My eye goes right to what ever beauty opened over night. I know my roses so well and I walk them daily and then some so I know which ones have buds ready to open and I can't wait to get out to see if they have yet in the morning. Once I've checked out all the new ones (and taken too many pictures, lol) I'll get out my pruners and bucket and go back and dead head to clean up the beds.

I notice them both and go out in the garden with clippers as as excuse to be in it. The great escape.

Wow I just walk around and see what's blooming, I never even notice what needs to be deadheaded unless it's a 'work day' in the garden.

Both, I'm a multi tasker. Also a compulsive deadheader. I love it, it's like therapy. I've been scolded for deadheading at a public rose garden.

Another for the "both" category. Every morning, I do an inspection tour which notes the developments good and bad since darkness fell the previous evening: Buds (most certainly, not necessarily roses!) that have opened, flowers which are done, signs of snails or slugs or rodents, ant trails, plants which have grown enough that they need to be staked or pruned, wasp's nests which have begun, weeds, bulbs which have started growth and so their shoots have started cracking the ground above, etc. etc. etc. etc. Most of the things I have listed are arguably "negatives"; but that's only because the good tends to take care of itself, the bad needs looking after. While I'm noting what needs attention, I'm also focusing on and appreciating the beauties subtle and otherwise of the flowers, the plants, the garden, life in general . . .

Cynthia, like you, I notice the work first!

altorama, your attitude towards your garden (not yard - that's the British influence Marlorena) is probably very healthy. I would love to have designated 'work day' but time lacking sees me 'working' in the garden whenever I get the chance. I usually find time to admire my garden after dinner, just before the sun goes down. It's the perfect time to appreciate all the work.

But I am sure everyone would agree, it's really not work - we do it because we love it!
Sharlene

An American yard may include a garden, or not. If it's just turf and shrubs, it's a yard but not a garden. But a patch of vegetables or roses is a garden in the yard. Or the whole yard may be a designed garden. I live on a chaotic steep slope with a garden but no yard.

Yard, ward, guard, garden are all related words having to do with enclosure and protection. But American front yards are rarely enclosed--it might be considered un-neighborly. Michael Pollan in Second Nature writes about the single Great American Lawn spilling without interruption over vast areas, leaping roads and rivers from the Atlantic to the edge of the deserts and mountains.

Sutekesh I just walk around oblivious to any work that needs to be done. I get excited because something bloomed and won't even notice the dead branch attached to it.

The exception to Michael's (both of them) unfenced Great American Lawn is the Southwest, esp New Mexico, where the Spanish influence has created the walled garden. Some of the most creative gardens/landscaping I've ever seen lies behind those adobe walls.

As to what I see first. First I see the flowers, then I see the weeds.

I'm with you, altorama--any interesting fauna first (like snakes or butterflies--not really interesting fauna, like wombats or hippopotami or anything), then rose blooms, then other blooming things, then weeds (oh, lordy, the weeds...), then any foliage problems, then the fact that the pond is overgrown (again), and then, maybe, I might notice the spent flowers--though by then, they've usually turned into hips, so I think, "well that's nice--maybe we can harvest some seeds later this year." I do admire tidy gardens, but I don't have it in me to keep one myself.

Perhaps someday I'll save a rich, elderly man from an oncoming bus, and he'll leave me his fortune, and I'll be able to have staff, and then my garden will be neat as a pin. But probably not otherwise.

I notice the weeds.

I am a compulsive deadheader. First I deadhead, then I admire what's left. This is probably because I started with hybrid teas. It's my impression that dyed-in-the-wool OGR gardeners appreciate the glorious messy abundance of petals and flowers at all stages. I get that aesthetic but I don't feel it for my own garden.

Great thread! I look at the roses first and then (much much later) at the dead heads... I don't enjoy deadheading but it has to be done. Sigh ;)

Well, during our past summer, I definitely checked on my crosses first, meticulously peeking to see which ones show yellowing of the stems and which ones swell up slowly with the electric expectation of promise. I would then check every hip numerously for any indication of the slightest tinge of colour (for perhaps I just missed it when I inspected it earlier; and who knows if it does not indeed ripen faster if it is studied and admired ;-) ). Next would come a tender, dreamy inspection of my grafts (Yes! The eye is still green!!) And cuttings (UH OH! There is a bit of the black on that stem.. but it was leafing out so nicely, must really be my imagination.. perhaps if I stare at it long enough it will disappear.. please don't die.. please don't die.)

I will then make my way to the five germinated seedlings (named Genesis to Deuteronomy, hoping that Psalms, Song of Songs and Revelation would all be one of a kind, while the not so successful seedlings will probably collectively be known as Lamentations 1, 2, 3 etc....) imploring them to favour me with just one tiny bud after my one year old joyfully disbudded the entire crop and brought me a "gift" .

By that time my husband would have most assuredly called from the house in order to enquire whether I have finished feeding the girls' rabbits (my excuse for leaving the house in the first place!) and I will rush of to perform this task ;-)

On my way back from the rabbit pen I will 'quickly' make the detour past the 'new' roses in order to see whether that first bud has finally opened, whether there are any new canes, and then to sniff them under the pretense of checking for disease.

By now, hubby will most assuredly be in a hurry to leave for work and I will rush inside to be a proper help meet :-), but not before opening the sprinklers in one end of the garden and setting the kitchen timer for when they have to be moved...

Once both hubby and the tots have been appropriately fed, my friend the kitchen timer will call me on urgent business to move the sprinklers (can't waste water you know!) And I will rush outside to 'move the sprinklers' with the pruning scissors in one hand...

This is the time to automatically inspect each rose bush - it is called multitasking as I walk right past them with the garden hose - taking in the leaves, the smell, the buds, stems, critters and flowers all at the same time... and of course the dead heading tasks... as it allows me to linger for a few extra precious moments..

So, what I actually wanted to say "in short" ;-) I don't think it is about noticing the promising buds or the wilting former queens first; but rather experiencing life happening right before your very senses as only a gardener will understand, and marvelling at the opportunity to be able to partake hands on in the beautiful process.

Looking at the roses in blooms first, then check on the rose midge damage, then seeing the deadheading work load. In the morning driving away going to work, I always looking at my roses when I passing the gardens, smelling the fragrance in the air, looking at thousands of blooms is always a good way to start a day, and coming home to thousands of blooms is alway a good feeling, home sweet home! :-)

It seems you're noticing the need to dead head first, Cynthia, because you enter your garden with the thoughts of what requires you attention first, rather than to just "smell the roses". Been there. I don't do that anymore. Now, I go out and enjoy what is in flower, what foliage is looking particularly fetching, smell anything open and rub new foliage to check for any scents, then pay attention to what might be nearing readiness to provide or accept pollen. I've "given myself permission" to just enjoy them, no matter what condition they're in nor how they look to anyone, without the pressure of "I MUST accomplish this or that", with the exception of getting and keeping them watered.

I should add that in the spring I meticulously check my once bloomers for Rose slugs /midge/thrips or whatever they are.

What a wonderful collection of insights we have here already! I took the liberty of tallying up what I interpret as a bottom-line answer to these questions so far, though as you all so expertly point out, our (ahem) gardens are about so much more than either end of this two-way question.

On the "roses first" camp, I'd list Altorama, Seil, Beth, Catsrose, Plectrudis, Rathersmallbunny (delightful user name!), Kim (roseseek), and Summersrhythm. Beth, your story about your grandmother and granddaughter was so very sweet, and I'd love to some day be that kind of grandmother for my family (I'm already goofy enough to talk to my flowers, but it only embarrasses my teenagers these days). Plectrudis - if I saved a rich man from a bus, I wouldn't want the staff to maintain everything for me (hey, that's the fun), but I'd sure as heck use the money for more roses and a larger acreage to grow them on. I envy most of you your "to heck with the weeds/deadheads" attitudes, but I guess I'm not there yet. I'm not manic about it for sure, Kim, and I do love the deliberately acquired skill at giving myself permission to love the roses as I go and appreciate what is, rather than what isn't there.

In the "both" camp, I think this was captured by Malorena, Roseleigh, Ratdogheads, Odinthor, and Liezel. Odinthor had comments that particularly resonated with me about finding what in the rose garden needed my attention the most, and then focusing on that. In a sense, having roses that "need" me is part of the fun of growing them, and the need draws my eye first (maybe it's the mom in me too - avoid disaster first, then you can settle back and enjoy the ride). I also have a ton of daylilies scattered throughout the beds and while they draw my eye even more than the roses do in bloom, they need literally nothing in terms of attention all year. If I feel like it, I whisk off the stalk after all the blooms are done, but even that isn't needed. They're beautiful, but not the same kind of "fun" in building a long-term relationship with the roses. Liezel, I dearly love the classic distraction in your tales of balancing a family and garden. We've all had those ADHD moments (days) in the garden that our spouses and kids don't really understand. I can't count how many times I've walked to the garden shed for something, only to look down at a weed in one hand and full watering can in the other and wonder what in the world I wanted in the shed, only to be distracted by smelling a rose (or yes, deadheading something), and get immediately sidetracked into a whole new area of the garden for different reasons. Your summary of "experiencing life" in the garden is what we are all seeking, I think - also "the great escape" as Roseleigh put it. My teenagers can still get excited about noticing a new bug in the garden (and there were the CUTEST baby green hoppers out there yesterday), much less the bunnies and garden edibles.

And then there are those that ADMIT to noticing the deadheads/weeds/work first, like me, Sutekesh, Rosefolly, and Michael, though some of the rest of you that admit to compulsive deadheading might be secretly in this camp in reality (smile). I like Michael's observation about appreciating a garden more if it's not messy, and that resonates with me a lot. I am by no means an obsessively neat person - one look at my house, office, car, garden, or clothes would convince you that "neat" is pretty far from the truth. Anyone that can wear half the garden on a quick trip to the grocery store is hardly compulsively neat. It's just that those pesky deadheads are like four-year-olds tugging on my sleeve going "Mom!! MOMMMMM!!" that are really really hard to ignore. Some of us ARE indeed blessed with the ability to block that sort of thing out (including my DH who is wonderful with the kids, but they have to do a lot more than sleeve tugging when he's distracted), but for me - I find my head whipping around even to other people's kids in the grocery store, or other people's deadheads. I find it much easier to see the beauty in the garden as a whole if the deadheads are gone. Incidentally, I don't find blackspot draws my eye in nearly this kind of way, even when it's really bad, probably because I don't intend to do anything about it anyway.

Finally, I'm curious to hear what other US folks would call Malorena's description of a yard - weeds, old outside toilet, unkempt, trashy. I couldn't really come up with a single word. Our old house had a backyard that started as literally a dump ("rubbish tip" to Malorena) with cement and old crockery buried deep in the soil, but that's too extensive a word for what she describes. "Pit" perhaps, but only in context? "Mess" surely, but that's a very general term too. Oh yes - speaking of tips, I still get a chuckle out of signs in the "rubbish tip" near where I lived in Manchester UK for a year that said "No tipping - persons tipping without permission will be prosecuted". Here, tipping is giving a gratuity of money for good service, and while people may refuse tips I have never heard of anyone prosecuting for being offered one (smile). The fun of varieties in the English language...

Cynthia

I can sit down, play in the garden...and blissfully ignore weeding, deadheading, etc. But I do love to water! I can always go back and get everything else later, but with our hot, dry summers....watering is the most important thing.

My mom is a complete weed-puller, dead-header fanatic. Now that she's retired, we're trying to get her to enjoy the garden more, not just the work.

I talk to my roses, too....glad I'm not the only one! Beth, I'm sure your granddaughter will have roses :)

Oh...and yard analogy. I think barnyard is probably what it sounds like...although actual farms often have much tidier barnyards..

Many people in town have their junky stuff in what they call the "back 40" even when they don't have acreage. It means the area that's not developed or maintained, just allowed to be in its natural state and where one stores things they can't put anywhere else. Usually behind a garage or shop...or an odd corner of the yard that's hidden from the road and house.

Hmmm, both! I see the beautiful blooms, enjoy it and on the back of my mind, darn I have to deadhead.

I propose the slackers method - the idea of looking at the whole thing through vague and uncritical eyes (being short-sighted helps), feeling quite jolly and charmed... until the downhill tipping point arrives, whereupon, far from racing out to deadhead or pander, I ignore it and immediately go and find something more lovely to look at.
I may, in fact will, return at some later point to do that inevitable weeding (deadheading less so) not when I might feel guilty or disappointed (and liable to get disheartened), but with eyes cast down, tool in hand, kneeler at the ready, teeth gritted, booted and suited and ready to focus minutely on 6inches of soil at a time, mindless, ceaselessly, tugging and grubbing...in work mode.

Honestly, I don't feel that is a "slacker" method at all, Camp. Aren't our gardens supposed to be "sanctuaries"? They exist for OUR amusement, pleasure and relaxation. Unless you "relax" by overworking, over stressing and beating yourself into a pulp, anything other than "slacking" is just too much work. What field of natural flowers is always perfectly dead headed, devoid of any imperfection? Absolutely, grow them as well as you can, but we really do need to cut ourselves some "slack". Having spent blooms, a few weeds, a bit of fungal issues or whatever certainly won't "lose the war for the Allies"!

Taking over a neglected plantation has certainly shifted my perspective...if only because it has become abundantly clear that even after almost 50 years of being totally ignored, life is still abundant, and, in its slightly shambolic way, quite beautiful. I loathe the common parlance of being on a 'journey' but nonetheless, this is exactly my gardening trajectory - going from a tiny garden which could, and was, more or less 'finished', to an allotment, which will never be anywhere near done, not least because of everyone else's weeds and pests as well as my own, over which I have zero control (not to mention the endless toil of growing vegetables and fruit), to acreage where I know I will never make more than tiny temporary inroads. Curiously, the sheer impossibility of reigning in the wilderness has freed me to forgive my fails, let the flowers and weeds grow wherever, and find loveliness is chaos.
I absolutely agree, Kim, that our gardens really should not be burdens on our souls...but, in fairness, we also earn a living working in this field and must make a distinction between work and play. Until I was required to weed, prune, plant and maintain gardens for a living, I never associated the maintenance of my own patches as toil...but to keep the joy alive while earning a crust requires a rather different mindset and a rather different garden (where hundreds of roses and demanding perennials are definitely more of a drag than a pleasure)...unless we go for massive, once blooming, easy-care, almost wild ramblers - the very plants which thrive in old cemeteries, woodland edges and abandonned lots.

When I look out of the windows of the house at my garden it is always beautiful. When I go out into the garden I see every imperfection and feel driven to fix it. It is not my place to play and relax. I do find deep satisfaction in creating and maintaining it.

That depends upon your definition of "play and relax", Pamela and Camp. If you find joy and fulfilment in toiling like a field hand, and this isn't a judgement, that is valid for you. I know too many and read many more who push themselves very hard, beat themselves up for "failures" of not achieving and maintaining "perfection". You may achieve "perfection" with a solitary bloom for a show, but even with enormous budgets for labor and supplies, "perfection" isn't Nature's way and certainly not her definition. A good friend, with whom I chat via phone fairly regularly as we don't live near each other, frequently beats herself up over some "failure" or other for not completing weeding or dead heading or pruning, etc. It obviously inhibits the joy she finds in her gardening, holding herself responsible and accountable for not accomplishing what multiple pairs of hands, fractions of her "mileage" would find difficult and I find that unnecessarily sad. It prevents her from finding the joy which flowers outside her back door. All it would take to release her to partake in that joy is for her to permit herself to be "not perfect".

Your friend reminds me of the deeply devoted--be they religiously so, love- or friendship-relatedly so, or whatever--who feel such appreciation for what they are receiving that they are distressed at their inability to demonstrate the fullness of their hearts. Yes, no matter what we do for our gardens, it is just not enough to repay the richness they bring into our lives. Tell such people not to worry about it, and they're thinking, "Ah, you don't understand the nature of our relationship."

Kim, your friend's blood type must be a A/AB....... ask her next time you talk to her, see if I am right. :-)

"...to acreage where I know I will never make more than tiny temporary
inroads. Curiously, the sheer impossibility of reigning in the
wilderness has freed me to forgive my fails, let the flowers and weeds
grow wherever, and find loveliness is chaos."

Exactly! We have acreage, too. If you can't control it, just enjoy it and do your best to make some of it pretty and full of life :)

I love the depth of your comments on human nature, Odinthor - "an inability to demonstrate the fullness of their hearts" for the deeply devoted in many respects. We all get passionately committed to something and then find ourselves building an overwhelming sense of responsibility and an awareness of how limited we are. I seem to find there are two possible responses to that growing awareness of the impossible in our lives - either we get anxious and focused on controlling ourselves and our environment to achieve that impossible perfection (like Kim's friend) or we develop a sense of humility and gratitude for being at least a small part of something bigger than ourselves (like Campanula and the endless joy of joining in the shaping of her wilderness). The same pattern often applies to us in other aspects of our lives, not just gardens but faith, family, and friends too.

I was reminded of how much the latter attitude is both a choice and a long-term growing process for all of us last night. My daughter was chafing at the waiting and watching for her brother's Tae Kwon Do tournament last night, and I was reminding her to be patient and find something to be interested about in the activities. She turned to me exasperated and said, "Yeah, but nothing ever bothers you!" Shocked the pants off me, let me tell you - you mean you don't remember all the times I snapped at you, for starters? Then I realized that she's only 12, and her life has been absolutely filled with dramatic changes so far all the time - physically, emotionally, socially, spiritually. She doesn't have the luxury of a perspective to look back at the tapestry of her life and see the big picture of how things work together and work out - her tapestry is tiny and rushed and pretty jumbled up from where she stands (all gangly 5' 9" of her already, at that). That insight gave me the chance to do my "mom thing" and remind her (and myself) that an attitude is a choice and something you have to practice to get good at. Patience isn't something we're born with, but something we deliberately cultivate by not backing away from challenges (even the impossible ones) and handling the frustrations in our lives with grace and humility.

Building that patience in the garden and life is something that all of you help me with at GW, and I thank you for it!

Cynthia

Thanks, Cynthia, for your posting. In the final analysis, we only approach true contentment--be it in our relationship with God, with Mother Nature in the form of our gardens, with our family, with our friends and lovers--by giving them all we have to give of ourselves, knowing that, even if it is not enough, we have done everything that it is in our power to do. We become painfully aware of our shortcomings!--but, just as you say, we learn to handle this by undertaking to develop our own grace and humility. No one, including one's self, can reproach one for having done one's best, even when it falls short.

Well said, Odinthor, and it's a good reminder to those of us who still see the deadheads before the blooms (smile). Just because there are flaws doesn't make the garden any less beautiful, and in fact the flaws are part of the individuality we bring to our gardens. Who wants a "perfect" garden that doesn't need us? Give me blackspot, one-cane wonders and rose slugs, as long as they come along with roses!
Cynthia