The Concept of Aesthetics

Yesterday, I stopped by my old address in Seminole to dig up and transplant a few ferns and wildflowers that will, in  all likelihood, not be fully appreciated by whoever purchases this home. This will be the last time I stop here as all of the plants I can safely move have been moved. The others of significance, like my fringe trees (Chionanthus virginicus) and silverbells (Halesia diptera) are too large now and I will replace them with purchases from native plant nurseries. I will always miss this landscape and the many hours I spent exploring in it, but I understand that new owners will look at it with a different aesthetic. Plants I grew from seed, those that were gifts from friends, and those that I spent years trying to track down so I could add them have a special meaning to me that I can't expect new owners to share.
Our landscapes are a reflection on us. They create experiences that are unique to our lives, and that seems especially true when we have planted to create a living landscape. My former neighbors have spent most of their waking hours inside, oblivious to the tide of migratory songbirds that visit each year, to the hummingbirds that have stopped to nectar from my arbor of coral honeysuckle (Lonicera sempervirens), and to the myriad pollinators that have relied on this small plot of land for their existence and the future of their offspring. New owners will not see these things unless their eyes are trained to look for them in the same way mine have. Hopefully, they will see some of it and keep the best of what remains there, but I am not optimistic that their sense of aesthetics will let them look too deeply. It takes years in a landscape to see everything that lies within it. Time with a parcel of land always increases one's appreciation for it and time is not something new owners normally have.
As I loaded the few pots of ferns and wildflowers into the back of my car for the trip back to my new home, my neighbor's father stopped by to talk about the "For Sale" sign posted next to my old mail box; questions about the timing of the sale and what I knew about the asking price. Those are not questions I could answer as the home was never mine and I am not involved with its sale. He then told me that he hoped the new owners would "clean" this landscape up after they moved in. No animosity, just an honest assessment. The home his son owns, and the one he has helped him work on, is pictured in the upper photo. It meets their sense of what a landscape should look like. They have cut down the mature slash pine (Pinus elliotti) and several live oaks (Quercus virginiana) to reduce the shade in the front and allow their grass to grow better. They have replaced the turf grass three times in the 12 years I've lived there, replaced the irrigation system, brought in "better" fill dirt, and hired a pest-control company to spray the lawn on a regular basis. Except for mowing the grass, they spend no time outside. There is nothing to see there except problems and work to do and they obviously see nothing but mismanagement on my part. I pity them for the experiences they have not chosen to share with me by choosing the landscape approach they've adopted, but they likely pity me for the "trashiness" I brought to to the neighborhood - even though they arrived to it much later than I.
We change the standard paradigm of what landscapes should be one yard at a time. My new one has very little life in it at present and I mourn my inability to bird and butterfly watch here. I live in a new context with different neighbors and different neighboring landscapes. It will be intriguing to see what unfolds in the days and months ahead. I will continue to document this and I appreciate your comments and welcome you to follow me here.