And I am here today to tell you that I am in love with Myrtle. I'm really talking about Creeping Myrtle or, more familiarly, Vinca Minor. Gardeners will know it as a perennial groundcover with purple flowers. Several years ago, my friend Jim helped me plant Myrtle in some difficult areas, places where landscaping demands were complicated. And for the first couple of years, I questioned our choice of groundcover. Growth was sparse at best, although the purple flowers were lovely.
It is now a decade later, and Myrtle has reigned supreme. She is among the first blossoms of spring, and her purple and green growth is luxurious. But . . . . she creeps.
Yes. I had a four foot swath of pathway between the Black-eyed Susans and the Myrtle, and little by little, Myrtle was closing that gap. By the time I got out there this week, Myrtle had creeped in enough to leave a two foot path. And it all happened without me paying any attention at all. Broke my heart to rip out the rootings that Myrtle had planted along the stone path, but when I did, and the path was reclaimed, I felt like I'd just cleaned house. The path became new and clean and beautiful. Which is not to say that Myrtle isn't beautiful! She is! But her beauty must be tamed!
And there it is. For something to be beautiful, sometimes it must be tamed. I love the wilderness as much as anyone, but we view the wilderness more clearly when it is tamed, don't we? I am thinking of the redwood groves in northern California. Untamed, we would not be able to meander through that beauty. But, when tamed, golden pathways lead us through the splendor and we are changed. I know this to be true.
And so I tame my Myrtle. She recedes under my command, and I am able to walk through what might have been a wilderness with ease. But her beauty is still there, asking to be loved. And I love her wildly and without restraint.
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