My disinterest in outside coincided with my move to Tulsa when I was eight years old.  Until then I roamed my neighborhood in Atlanta with a pack of children mostly my age.  We built forts, swam in pools, waded in creeks and caught crawdads and tadpoles.

As my feet were usually bare, I stepped on bees. As my shoulders were usually bare, I was often sunburned.  I have few memories of playing with toys other than swing sets, and – to the great frustration of my mother – my clothes were usually covered in Georgia clay.

When we moved, the neighborhood was different. There was a man-made pond nearby, but fewer children.  My mother worked, so I stayed inside.

I developed an aversion that was close to fear about being outside.  I stopped digging.  I stopped running – barefoot or otherwise.  My adventures were the adventures of characters in books and the crew and passengers of the S. S. Minnow.

When I began to make my own homes, all my energy was focused inside.  I might have suggested some boxwood here or a hosta there, but my only real contribution was planting climbing roses that I never saw leap.

But now my house is mostly settled.  (Except for the kitchen.  Another story for another day.) And I’ve spent the last several months thinking and planning – and yes, digging a little – to create a garden.  I suppose all gardeners must be tenacious, but gardening in the midwest – oof!

I’ve done what I always do in times of transition (which are ultimately the times of greatest growth.) I’ve turned to books.  Just as there were once stories of girls and women in tough spots, or volumes (and volumes) on rooms and houses, now there are books on gardens.  Technical books, historical books, inspirational books.

Inspired by Nature, Chateau, Gardens and Art of Chaumont-Sur-Loire, has had a permanent place on my bedside table, the living room sofa and my desk for a few months.  The remarkable history of the chateau is engaging enough without the inspiring evolution of a regular arts installation that happens on the ground.  It is a wonderful story – from inception to present – of what interesting and interested people can do.

Image credits as follows: The “Hualu, Ermitage sur Loire” garden by Che Bing Chiu; view of the château farmyard; the experimental kitchen garden, created in 2009, is a homage to biodiversity. Many of the fruits and vegetables growing there had been all but forgotten since the eighteenth century; Mist in the Prés du Goualoup park; The château was built in the fifteenth century facing the Loire river, in order to benefit from what, until the nineteenth century, was one of the longest navigable arteries in France. Photography, Eric Sander, 2019.