Two years ago, Betty and I came to the conclusion that our home was just too big for two people. Like many aging Baby Boomers, we decided it was time to downsize.
But being an avid gardener makes downsizing complicated. Neither of us wanted anything to do with those ‘active adult communities’ where gardening is restricted to what you can put in a pot on your front porch, or where the ‘community garden’ is shared with, well, the community. We needed some property to go along with that new home. An acre at least. And maybe two.
|The old house we found. Note that the|
center of the roof is two feet lower
than the sides.
Have you gone looking for raw land in eastern Massachusetts recently? Maybe we’re too picky, but after 18 months of looking at lots bisected by wetlands, lots sidled up to utility long-distance transmission lines, and lots where the roof peak would sit at eye level with the street, we made the reluctant determination that the lot we wanted probably already had a house on it.
Six months ago we found that perfect site. A private acre and a half on a winding street. A sad, 74-year-old house beyond repairing. A neighborhood of attractive older homes of the same size we want to build.
We were, of course, promptly outbid for that property by a developer, who had in mind to erect a grand Starter Castle suitable for a family of ten. But we persevered and in early June we found ourselves the proud owners of a now-vacant lot. This autumn, our new ‘right-sized’ home will rise on the site.
What has happened since we signed the purchase and sale agreement says a lot about who we are. Most people would throw themselves full-time into designing the perfect compact house, worrying about how furniture will fit into fewer rooms and pondering choices of paint colors. We’ve done our share of that, but an equal amount of time has been devoted to siting a raised-bed vegetable garden, determining which if any trees on the property are worth keeping and positioning a porch that will provide three seasons of natural light for houseplants.
|A very small part of the transplant|
garden now taking shape along
one side of our house
Meanwhile, back at our current home, a vast project is underway to populate the new garden even before the adjacent house’s foundation has been dug. We have already divided and conditioned upwards of a hundred hostas. They sit in a special bed, potted and identified. Other perennials have been divided or marked for division in the fall.
The runners of favorite shrubs, once unceremoniously pulled up and composted, are now lovingly potted with the maximum amount of root. One especially prized and uncommon shrub, a chamaecyparis ‘Snow’ that has grown to monumental proportions in our back garden, has a now-four-inch-high, well-rooted cutting.
|This peony Alfred's Crimson'|
came with us to Medfield
from Alexandria. It will follow
us to our new home.
Fifteen years ago, we did this on a much more modest scale. A few favorite perennials were dug up and thrown into pots. They rode from our home in Virginia to our new one in Massachusetts along with those household belongings (e.g., wine) we refused to entrust to movers. The aquilegia (columbine) ‘Biedermeier’ and peony ‘Alfred’s Crimson’ we brought from Alexandria are still part of our landscape a decade and a half later, and will have honored locations at our new home.
|This beautiful chamaecyparis|
'Snow" and itea 'Henry
Garnet' stay with the house.
Cuttings and runners go
The satisfaction in going through this admittedly time-consuming process has little to do with saving money. What is in our transplant bed is just a down payment on a landscape. Betty all but stopped adding to our garden a year ago and, instead, started making lists of trees, shrubs and perennials she will purchase in the spring of 2015. Populating a 60,000-square-foot property is going to make the owners of a few select nurseries and garden centers very, very happy.
|This is what we will be leaving behind.|
The good news is that it will look
just this good for the next owner.
No, the satisfaction is that we are doing a favor for whoever purchases our home. For example, a wonderful patch of delicate blue Siberian iris is just now passing out of bloom. That Siberian iris needs to be divided. It is now eighteen inches in diameter and has a small but definitely ‘bald’ center. This fall, we will take up the entire colony, clean out the center and break the resulting ring into three or four segments. One of those segments will go with us to our new home. The remaining iris will be replanted with a fresh helping of compost. Like the hostas we have already divided, the re-planting should be good to 2019 or 2020.
The best part is that when we begin planting that new garden in earnest next spring, we will intermix a group of familiar old friends with a larger cast of new ones. Those old friends will be touchstones; a reminder of what we left behind.