For those of you who have visitied Chanticleer in the last few years, you may remember a grand vessel, a Turkish oil jar looming in the courtyards. In a rare display of restraint, I have avoided planting this wonderful piece. For one thing, I couldn’t decide which of the many plants I work with that was worthy of this preeminent stage. Secondly, to fill a vessel as large as this one would require a soil mass likely in excess of 500 pounds…dry. So, empty it stood. The nice thing about it being empty was its mobility. Season to season, it would reappear in other areas: as feature, as focal point, as foil. Well, ths spring, upon its emergence into the garden, disaster struck. In a move I had done dozens of times before, a carefully choreographed dance to move this pot, I lost control of it and down it went. It didn’t crack. It didn’t shatter. It nearly vaporized in a cloud of dust, imploding upon its own substantial weight.
Never to lessen the severity of the day’s event, but like the towers as they fell that fateful day. Well, one can cry over spilt terra cotta, or one can work with it.
Interestingly enough, the very base of the vessel had retained a bit of its cone like shape. As the scale of the pot was so large to begin with, this remaining opportunity was larger than most get to plant with a new pot. Cool season annuals, some architectural foliage and gravel mulch combine to form the last combination this pot will hold. Likely not even all season, but at least until the grieving process is finished. My professional version of sitting shiva.