Around the House and In the Garden by Dominique Browning

Around the House and In the Garden by Dominique Browning 

This book came out in 2002, and the subtitle is A Memoir of Heartbreak, Healing, and Home Improvement

Oh, my dear gardeners, you're in for a treat today. This book landed on my desk at exactly the right moment, like finding the perfect bloom just when your garden needs a splash of color. Dominique Browning, the former editor-in-chief of House & Garden magazine, has crafted something extraordinary here - a memoir that speaks to anyone who has ever found solace in their garden during life's storms.

Isn't it fascinating how life has a way of arranging perfect ironies? Just as Browning's 15-year marriage was ending, she took the helm of House & Garden magazine - tasked with helping others create perfect homes while her own was crumbling. But from this contradiction emerges a story as rich as well-composted soil.

Let me share a passage that I think will resonate with every parent who has ever tried to pass on their love of gardening. Browning writes:

Every morning—for years now—my son has responded to my garden enthusiasms with a little attitude of bemusement, as if to say, "There, there, dear, you'll be fine."

He knows the drill so well that if I skip the commentary about a particular patch of moss or someone's hedge, he will squeeze my hand and hesitate expectantly at the spot. But he also assures me he will never remember any of the names.

"You're wasting your breath, Mom."

Still, I know it won't be lost on him.

Many years ago, in Texas, I heard an old man say to a harried reporter, "Son, you're living life like a clenched fist."

I did not want this to be visited upon my son.

Who gardens with a clenched fist?

Gardens slow things down, relax that death grip with which we grasp the time we are given. I want simply to teach my children to see the roses.

One day they will know enough to stop and smell them, too.

Isn't that just perfect? Don't we all recognize that bemused look from our own children when we stop to admire a particularly fine specimen of anything growing?

But the real heart of this book reveals itself in a passage that brought tears to my eyes. Here's where Browning captures the reciprocal relationship between gardener and garden:

And then it was time to dismantle the household. I stayed planted. It was winter. The days were short, and I came home in the dark.

When spring came, slowly that year, I did not head out into the garden to chop apart the hardened mulch, open the beds, and inspect for those tender green shoots as I had every year before.

Spring became summer, and still I stayed put. simply could not take care of the garden any longer. It held no magic, promised no peace.

It had been for us; we were no longer, so what was the use?

I let it go.

It flourished without me. It even seemed to take care of its own weeds, burying them under luscious new growth.

Fall came, the sedum flushed, the hydrangea dried in gigantic bronze bouquets. The garden put itself down for the winter, and all did was watch. Too sad and too busy and too confused to do a thing.

But the garden went on.

A few more springs passed in the same sorry state, and then one day I noticed a profusion of weeds and decided to do something about them. Weed.

I noticed dead branches, and decided to do something about that. Prune.

I noticed gaps, and went to fill them. Plant.

I noticed languor, and thought I'd relocate some things to sunnier climes. Transplant . . . Divide. Fertilize. Water.

I didn't have the heart to do much, but I did some. Enough.

Enough to get by, enough to get going again.

As I worked, ! thought how I would never (why do I still say never?) be able to pour heart and soul into that garden again, but that it would be a lovely thing to maintain it, just until the next gardener moved in to renew it.

How striking it is to be able to measure a passage of time in increments of weeding and pruning and planting. It dawned on me: I had tended that garden in great, lavish, loving strokes.

It had given me quiet, steady, demanding, and undemanding seasons of pleasure.

I took care of the garden, then the garden took care of me.

This book is 208 pages of what I can only describe as garden therapy for the soul. It's not just about plants or design or even healing - it's about the profound way our spaces shape us, even as we shape them. Through Browning's elegant prose, we discover that creating a home and nurturing a garden are acts of courage, hope, and, ultimately, self-love.

Whether you're going through your own period of transformation or simply love beautifully crafted garden writing, this book deserves a spot on your nightstand. It's like having a wise friend who understands that sometimes the best therapy involves getting your hands dirty and watching something grow.

You can get a copy of Around the House and In the Garden by Dominique Browning and support the show using the Amazon link in today's show notes for around $2.