Winter Gardens

Culling possessions and getting ready to move to Portugal

We are moving to Portugal. I say this to myself as I prepare to spend another day culling a lifetime of possessions.

We are moving soon. In January, the Embassy of Portugal approved our visas. The embassy notified us by email. We mailed our passports to the embassy to have our long stay visas stamped inside. After receiving our passports, the embassy FedExed them back to us with the visa stamps the following day.

I have many thoughts and feelings about immigrating to Portugal. Right now, I’m focused on saying good-bye to the American South, where I’ve lived for decades, in order to make space to welcome a new adventure.

There is a lushness and mystery to the American South, which I find in its literature and gardens.

During 2020 and 2021, I walked almost daily through the same neighborhood and took photographs from the sidewalk of gardens I saw. These were not gardens designed by landscape designers, but by individual gardeners who sometimes cultivated perennials, flowering shrubs and trees for decades.

There were so many incredible blooms and often there was just one day when the flower looked its best. I knew that was the day to take the photo, because tomorrow the bloom might be shriveled or gone.

The image I remember often has a crispness that the photograph doesn’t show. But, the photograph reminds me of a moment with sights and sounds and smells.

Wreath and dried hydrangea

I can remember the two dogs that ran up and down the length of the fence, barking, whenever I walked by on the other side with my dog.

On one street, a woman neatly planted rows of bulbs in her side yard. I stopped to look more closely at the labels she had placed in their midst: Candy Prince tulips.

Tulip bulbs

Even when the trees have lost their leaves, an angel and strings of dried eucalyptus leaves, and other yard art, rustle over the garden.

Deciduous tree and angel

Further on, I see white camellias against a white house in front of trees. The blooms are glorious in the winter and create lushness even in the coolest, barest months.

White camellias by the sidewalk

Red blooms on a cold day

The US is a country where people move often. They move for new jobs. They move again for better jobs. They move when they have children. They move again when they downsize. In this neighborhood, I could tell by the garden when the gardener had left. Some flowers would still bloom. But, something, I could not always tell what, looked different. The garden looked not as well kept, as if it were surviving on its own, as best it could. Weeks later, I might see a For Sale sign in the yard. Or maybe, I would just see a new person moving in. It was remarkable seeing how gardens thrived when tended, and quickly lost their luster when on their own.

Each place I’ve lived has offered unexpected gifts. This home had sunrises that were frequently stunning. Their colorful beauty was unexpected. Is there an unexpected gift you have found while living in your current location? If you’re willing, please share it in the comments below.

---

Good-bye to Southern gardens in winter. Good-bye to a beautiful, lush, green forested land, even in winter.

January sunrise

What to expect from the American South → Portugal in 2024:

• More images of Portugal

• A bookshop with titles by authors from the American South and from Portugal

• Stories of navigating a new country, language and cuisine as an immigrant

The American South < - > Portugal: Loving, Leaving and Recreating Home is a reader-supported publication. Please subscribe to support my work. Subscriptions are free.