The highest compliment I can think of is saying someone is a gardener’s gardener. Our friend Valerie Serpa was just that and so much more. In a tragic accident, we lost her this week.
It shocked us all and leaves a crater-sized hole in the entire community and in our hearts. The night we all found out we were gifted with a much-needed rainstorm. A parting gift perhaps for a town she was so dedicated to. She will be remembered for her endless work around the community and especially at the Churchill Arts Council, but I wanted to take the moment to remember her as one of my gardening muses. When I think of her it will always be, spade in hand wearing ripped blue jeans, a little dirt on her face, and some bright red lipstick. In my ever ongoing search for interesting garden columns, she and I were just having a conversation the other day about the beet industry that once thrived in our town. The Images of America book she and Michon Mackedon wrote about our town titled “Fallon” talks a little bit more about it. Super interesting to read about the history of our town and the major role agriculture played in our development.
I was lucky enough to be asked to help her in restoring and expanding the landscaping at the Churchill Arts Council. Holy moly was there a lot of clay. Kevin tilled in many yards of compost before planting began. There was a lot of laughter, sweat, and end of the day beers if I’m honest. The beds hold David Austin roses, icebergs, and magenta rugosa roses that make the best rose hips in the fall. There are upright columnar oak trees as well as the same flowering pears that line Maine Street. The biggest chaste bush I have ever seen in Fallon is also there as well as the not planted enough, desert willow trees that bloom orchid-like flowers in the late spring. The beds also hold butterfly bushes, ornamental grasses, flowering quince shrubs, red hot pokers as well as a whole host of other colorful, blooming perennials that she lovingly planted. As I have mentioned before, plants that thrive in the county can sometimes struggle in the city and vice versus. City gardeners, I would encourage a walk by mid-summer for some inspiration as to what you can grow successfully here.
It should be no surprise that her home gardens were stunning. The giant vegetable garden had to be totally enclosed as peacocks roamed her property. In full summer production, the perimeter of the chicken-wired walls included 5 foot tall white gorgeous and giant, perfumy flowering tobaccos that I have yet to get to ever go in my own yard. Tomato plants toppled over each other and were the size of small trees. She made jars and jars of tomato paste. Having some in your pantry was like having money in the bank. More often than not dinner was made from something from her garden. We learned quickly never to turn down an invite.
She had a giant grass lawn and we joked about her having the city’s biggest water bill. Some days, a happy donkey or two was out munching on it. Other garden beds surrounded a central courtyard that was often filled with the thoughtful conversation of artists and art lovers. Everyone loved meandering through the gardens curated, crafty cocktail in hand. Her Zen was a time in the yard, working on the everblooming, seasonal parade of flowers on her property to nurture the bees she kept and loved. Their honey was the secret ingredient in homemade ice cream and the best quince pie.
She gave great hugs and thoughtful gifts. There are many plants in my yard I am especially grateful to have on these heavy days. Most recently she gifted me some lacy phacelia seeds that are popping up all around. A sweet reminder of a kind friend. In her memory, I encourage you all to give seeds to your friends. Exchange cuttings and starts. Share stories, laughs, plants and a really good cocktail or two.
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