Shelter in Place, San Francisco, California, July 6, 2020
The Hebe is a New Zealand shrub that grows well in Northern California. There are about 90 varieties, three of which we have in our garden. I love how they attract the local honey bees (can you see the one that’s flying in?), and the way their small, spiny flowers look like sparklers as, reaching for the sky, they open up from one end to the other. Even at nearly six feet tall, this Hebe hides in the back of the garden behind the taller Ceanothus, an unplanned, rookie California gardener’s mistake which I don’t really mind because the two let off their fireworks at the opposite ends of the blooming season. And the Hebe’s bright pink mass of color offers a great surprise as you come around the corner this time of year.
This weekend - amidst the hellish real fireworks that rocked our world like nothing the city has ever heard - I took a little break to look around to see what’s left in this garden to photograph and feature and to anticipate what’s coming next. The Hebe’s color won’t last long, but what else is blooming now will be here for the next few months - there’s little new on the horizon, and my holiday video tour has revealed all the corners, scales, and secrets of my garden. Still…
Since the lockdown edict began, there have been two daily constants in my life - writing this blog and reading the news. The routine has kept me busy, provided order to my day, and offered me personal strength and insight into the constraints of this experience. But with every passing day, I find the headlines increasingly hard to take, and so I'm skimming more, or simply closing up and putting the news away. I’m not sure what to do about photographing the garden, though. It’s a harder habit to break. So here’s my plan: I’ll only post when I’ve found a new flower, an interesting angle in the garden or a new observation from the news that I haven’t shared before. And though it may or may not be every single day, I assure you I’m still here and looking for every sign of beauty and of hope within and without this small world I inhabit. More than ever, we all need both.