To The Other Side

I was disappointed with my first spring trip to the Santa Fe Botanical Garden at the end of April. Flowering trees in town were in bloom and my own garden was greening up, so a visit to see what was going on at the public garden was in order. It was the first time back since the pandemic shut everything down a year ago last spring.

Nothing. The fruit trees had a few attempts at some small flowers, but not much. No leaves were out on anything at all. Nothing had greened up. The only sights other than brown were the pines and junipers, and the red of the bridge. The iron truss bridge built in 1913 was moved from the old Santa Fe Trail road to the garden to span an arroyo. 

With no color or interest in the garden, the red bridge
crossing the arroyo was something to look at.

The groundcover speedwell that had carpeted much of the garden's wilder spots with intense blue flowers in previous years was evident in only one small scrabbly patch. 

The botanical garden sits on a dry hill. That slight elevation, just a few hundred feet above town, but over 7,200 feet high, makes it colder and harsher than in town. And the irrigation systems had not been turned on for the year yet. It's been a dry, dry year.

And of course during shut down the garden wasn't even open. Despite being entirely and solely an outdoor venue, they were first classified as an "entertainment" establishment, like bars and restaurants, and were totally closed. New Mexico, to its governor's credit, had some of the earliest and most complete closures in the country.

The red bridge is a metaphor, really. Crossing over from the before times
into a new pandemic-diminished world we live in now.

Eventually the garden was re-classified and allowed to open with restrictions, but the pandemic took its toll on income and staff. Much of the paid staff is gone now, permanently let go. Volunteers have kept some maintenance tasks going.

The garden will green up again, the water will be turned on, and summer will bring plants to life. It was just too early in the season to see much at that elevation, in that dry spot, without irrigation. I'll go back later in the year.

But it did seem awfully symbolic -- that red bridge crossing a dire landscape. This year has been so horrible and it has changed the very look and experience of familiar places. 

Jim across the bridge.

It's okay. We've crossed to the other side and made it through the pandemic year with all in our family safe and well. A new granddaughter came into the world. The botanical garden will survive, people will come back, and plants will too. It gets better.