Time Markers

I know I said I was going to use the weekend to knit but I got distracted by yard work. I strive for low maintenance landscaping. However, with spring on its way the beds around my house demand my attention. It has been a pleasant morning and I thought that now was as good as any.

I've trimmed the decorative grasses back to the recommended 4 inch height and tackled my clematises (or is clematisii?). I planted my first clematis, a jackmanii shortly after I purchased the house. The first summer it never poked it's head above ground and I thought it a lost cause. The second summer it made it to a height of 6 inches before some rabbit, deer, or other creature made a light snack of it. However, the third year was it's year to shine. One lone vine grew a whopping 7 feet with a multitude of blooms. By the fourth year several vines were growing strong. Every spring since, I have the task of selecting which vines to cut back to ground and which to leave.

I love the hour or so I spend every spring tending to my vines. It allows me an opportunity to reflect on the moments that have occurred in my life since it's planting. It is also creates an overwhelming sense of pride. I am unable to keep a plant of any sort alive for longer than a year or so. Even a cactus should fear me. This vine though is going to see it's eighth summer.

Two years ago, using the confidence that my success with the jackmanii provided, I chose to plant another clematis. It is a Nelly Moser. That planting marks the year my husband and I got married. Just like us in our first year, it struggled to adapt. And just like us, it survived and began to flourish. This year I pruned two vines and I see the beginning of a third that will grow as well.

Without realizing it, I have used these flowering vines to mark the time that passes. Just like stitch markers that identify beginnings and endings of pattern repeats or rounds of knitting, my clematises (or clematisii) mark the distinct changes in my life's journey.