When Billie Holiday sang “There’s a change in the weather/There’s a change in the sea/So from now on there’ll be a change in me,” she was casting off an unsatisfactory love affair, not singing about climate change, but the words fit our current global concerns. The climate is changing and the sea is rising.  No matter whether everyone agrees about the challenges ahead, there’ll be some changes made.

As I stand here today meeting Janus, the Roman god of endings, beginnings and transitions I am considering the personal changes I will choose to make, and the changes I may be forced to make. I am not the only one considering changes. Our nation is considering what changes will unfold in 2017 with heightened interest. In our own state and community we read about proposed changes and how they will meet the needs of state and community. Each of us will consider changes we can make individually to meet the needs of state and community.

Those of us who tend a garden know that change is inevitable. Often the garden changes slowly. Seeds germinate slowly and poke tiny shoots through the soil, buds unfurl slowly, vegetables and fruits ripen slowly. Patience is cultivated, although for some of us it is slowly gained.

I can catalog my own impatience over the past months.

In 2015, before we actually moved into our new house, we concentrated on the edges of our garden, the South and North Borders, where we planted shrubs, including a few roses, perennials and groundcovers. We also created three small islands that floated in the sea of lawn that surrounded the house. We knew a garden is not built in a season, but we were impatient and tried to do as much as possible.

During the summer of 2016 we had a low and gracefully curving stone wall built in June and started enlarging those tiny islands, and planted more shrubs and perennials in July and August. It is said that you never step in the same river twice. It is also true that a garden is never the same from day to day either. Some changes may be very small, but sometimes there are big changes that are gratifying – or terrifying with storm debris scattered everywhere.

You do not even need to have a garden of your own to see the way gardens change. I monitor the Bridge of Flowers email and I am always dismayed when questions come in about the best time to visit. All I can do is ask the writer what flowers are their favorites? Spring bulbs, peonies and blooming trees? Roses and dahlias? Chrysanthemums? I send them on to the Bridge’s website to the very long list of bloom times. The Bridge changes every year because Head Gardener Carol Delorenzo always has new ideas and some new plants to introduce.

Those who have discovered that Greenfield’s EnergyPark right in the center of town is a good place to stroll or sit in the shade will have noticed that changes are happening there. The stones edging circular beds have been transformed into meandering paths through newly planted beds. Other beds are being weeded and edited to include more native plants, and plants that support pollinators even if they are not natives. More changes are coming. Keep strolling and watching this spring. Well tended public gardens, however small, can change the way people feel about their communities.

Many things bring about change in our lives. As a gardener I love visiting other gardens that introduce me to new plants, new ways of using plants and different points of view. How often during a garden tour do you find yourself exclaiming, why didn’t I think of that? I love garden tours, official and ad hoc, because I am always ready for a new point of view, new information, and a new inspiration.

I am not very good at making New Year’s Resolutions, but I do begin every new year with some visions and some hopes, not all of which are about the garden. While I am not good at resolutions, I am pretty good at visualizing. This year I am visualizing good friends around our dinner table more often; visualizing a real cutting garden; visualizing an enchanting list of books to read to the first graders in Kate Bailey’s class at Four Corners School; visualizing a stack of books for myself with plenty of hours for reading; visualizing cool hours to work in my own garden, and in public gardens like the Energy Park and the Bridge of Flowers.

There have probably been hundreds of books written about how to respond to change, especially when it is unexpected. The results of our own national elections this fall were unexpected, and whether you think those changes are good or bad, the reality is that we are facing unknown changes.

Voltaire’s 1759 satiric work Candide follows a young man, his lady and his teacher Dr. Pangloss through many trials and adventures. Dr. Pangloss espoused a philosophy that declared all is for the best in this best of all possible worlds, and Candide accepted it. But in the end Candide is changed and no longer believes in this philosophy of acceptance. He determines to stay home and tend his own garden. I take that to mean doing what he can where he can.

Right now my garden is a blank slate covered with snow, but I too will cultivate my garden this year and make the necessary changes.

Between the Rows  December 31, 2016