Hawthorn and hydrangea

White Hawthorn

If you came this way,
Taking the route you would be likely to take
From the place you would be likely to come from,
If you came this way in may time,
You would find the hedges
White again, in May, with voluptuary sweetness.

from, The Four Quartets
T.S. Eliot

Years ago, we had a big hawthorn tree in the yard until a windstorm finally knocked it down. It bloomed beautifully and messily in May, and the robins nested up there. It was so dense and armored with thorns even our tabby "Cowboy" couldn't climb the trunk in his salad days. So the robins thought they were smart-- until one year the crows found their nest and they never came back.

It's called Haw-thorn for a reason.

Many trees live longer than us, but all plants have a natural lifespan. Yes, obvious-- but when you garden the same postage stamp for several decades you experience the comings and goings first-hand. Despite heroic efforts, our favorite plants eventually weaken or just get tired of their spot and give up. Then we dig out the carcass and wonder what happened to that friend we took for granted. Old age is what happened.

I see that one of our hydrangeas didn't come back this year. They always look like dead sticks in the winter, but this may be the real thing. It was already big when we moved here in 1981, so it must be at least 40 years old. Amanda will be sorry to hear this, because she and her little girlfriends used to cut off the big blue pom-poms and pretend they were cheerleaders out on the sidewalk. I'll have to plant a new one for Nova.