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December 19, 2005

A Gardener is as a Gardener Does

April 28, 2006 06:10 PM EDT

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A Gardener is as a Gardener Does

    At my house brilliant color photographs on glossy paper scream out from the covers of a half dozen or more gardener's wish books in a pile on the kitchen table. I don't mean lists of tools and apparel, I mean big, stunning close-ups of blossoms that make even the mundane plant look like a show-stopper. These are accompanied by a virtual thesaurus of superlatives and the exuberant NEW!, EXCLUSIVE!, and BEST __ (insert any flower here) __ OF THE YEAR! in bright stars and seals all over the place. It is thrilling to just turn the pages and dream.

    My problem is that my appetite for new plants always exceeds my budget and my garden space. That is an unfortunate combination. Still, I can imagine finally planting a hedge of THE fabulous new rose, reading wistfully of the ever blooming, self-pruning, insect and disease resistant, sun or semi-shade shrub with rich green foliage. Then I see a new perennial border, using the rose hedge as a backdrop, sixty or so feet long, snaking through the open lawn. Next, I'll mirror that garden, and put a randomly laid stone walk winding down the middle. I'll complete the picture with a gazebo overlooking the lily pond at the end of the allee. I can see it all now, in perfect blooming glory for the house and garden tour.

    Whew - that was exhausting! Thank goodness I don't have to do it. Once it is complete in my mind, I can move on to another equally ambitious plan inspired by the next page of plants. This is fun! All I really need is the hours to peruse these horticulture journals and I could plan enough gardens to make the whole world a beautiful place. Imagine that! But for want of time, money and space, I could create a real-life Monet, only in focus.

    Back to reality here, part of me looks at the garden walk described above and sees an absolutely stunning addition to any landscape. Unfortunately, the pragmatic part of me sees a supermarket aisle for insects and mammals alike. Not that there is a deer problem in the neighborhood. Unless one calls a herd of herbivores gorging themselves on the fruits of my labors a "deer problem". This clutch of Bambi clones quickly loses its cuteness when caught red hooved, in flagrante as it were, surrounded by the devastated remains of my art. And, if I can somehow keep the deer away, it is only to struggle with disease and/or fight the winged and creepy crawly things. Which, by the way, is not easy to do without a pharmacopoeia of chemicals and special implements, including a HAZMAT suit. Suddenly, the harmonious landscape is spoiled with hanging yellow Japanese beetle traps, tins of beer to catch the slugs, white powder on all the foliage and a rubber-clad person with a backpack sprayer looking like a refugee from a moon walk. Well, at least I won't need a scarecrow. I'll just need to double my budget to pay for all the non-plant items.

    Still, I do purchase a select few (HA!) mail-order plants every year. If you do also, you know that the real test of a gardener's fortitude is when the plants actually arrive. That is the time to forget that party, shopping or family emergency you thought was important . . . there are bare-root plants all over your kitchen table! They have to be dealt with - now! Regardless of the catalog assurances that "plants will be shipped at the appropriate planting time for your region", they always seem to arrive during that freak snowstorm or flood that renders all work in the soil impossible, at least until you are sure they are dead. Then the sun comes out, the grass turns green and Spring arrives - overnight, it seems.

    That's why I usually pot my plants when they arrive. It is the one way I know that they will survive for sure. The only problem then is moving these big, seemingly lifeless containers in and out each day. You haven't lived until you've tried to negotiate a phalanx of pots and nursery containers covering nearly every square foot of porch space daily until it is warm enough at night to plant them outside. If you don't live alone, you can imagine the conversations that situation engenders. But, rest assured, harmony returns when the end result is a beautiful garden.

    I am no longer a professional gardener. It is more fun to imagine garden designs, and grow plants for my own enjoyment. That is certainly easier than having 35 customers who expect you to deliver perfection every week, rain or shine. That is also the reason I no longer run the Nursery & Garden Center. Imagine being in a business where you have to grow and care for plants until they reach their peak, and then hope the weather, economy and whims of the buying public come together at the right time to sell them. That is a young person's business. And gambling on the weather works . . . until it doesn't. We need only look at the recent bankruptcy of countless farmers to be reminded of that. So, twenty years ago I changed professions. I am now a merchant of nonperishable goods. A comforting thought is that the value of my product appreciates on my shelves now, instead of withering and dying. And, the best part is, I can continue to garden as a hobby - for my own pleasure.

   Believe it or not, Spring is here. Think of the plantings you pass everyday and resolve to pull a weed, prune a broken branch, and water as needed. Someday, with everyone's help, and "the Good Lord willin'", we'll have this world as beautiful as my imagined Monet.