For some reason, when spring rolls around, the irresistible urge of spring planting begins. I know that I am not alone, as I have seen the same crazed look on other faces when the perennials start to show up at the garden stores. Droves of people braved the rain and drizzle, and even missed the second cup of coffee to turn out for the Perennial Premiere. They staked their claims on the plants that they had spent the winter months thinking about. They arrived with specific plans about how their gardens would look and exactly which plants would go in each specific location in their blossoming yards.
At my house, there is no such plan. We plant randomly, but with fervor. There are few successes, and more than a few bare spots where things refuse to survive. I don’t take it personally, I just plant something else in its place. Garden books are voraciously read through the winter months, but when spring comes, all knowledge and carefully made plans are obliterated at the first sight of a perennial sale.
We are going to have a real garden in the new rental house, no matter what. Enlisting the frenetic planting skills of a seven-year old boy, we got started at the first sight of a seed sale. My son doesn’t think that the planting directions are really important. He just wants to put the seeds in the ground and see what happens next. The single soybean that came home from school in a tiny bit of dirt is proudly growing in a beautiful blue pot next to the front door. We just want to see what happens next.
Along with the ever-extending line of terracotta pots filled with tomato plants, basil, pepper plants and cantaloupes, is the row of egg cartons filled hopefully with watermelon seeds, more cantaloupes, chives, carrots and purple basil. Only my son knows which one is which. He just wants to see them grow. I hesitate to tell him that the carrots might not make it – they are all carefully clustered into a very small pot. Small seeds, small pot. He has it figured out. Each afternoon, he tours his domain and shouts at anything new that is sprouting. The line of morning glory seeds along the front of the house is a bit disheveled, but the pride he takes in knowing that he planted something that is growing, is outstanding.
My daughter approaches planting methodically. Plant only a few things, but make sure that they are in the right sunlight, the right amount of shade. She actually reads the directions on the seed packages to decide where to grow her crop. This year, we are determined to attract butterflies and ladybugs. The hand-painted ladybug house is now surrounded by sweet pea seedlings and a row of sunflowers. Plants are carefully selected, based on their butterfly appeal. Someone in the neighborhood might object to the fact that they are growing in the small space between the sidewalk and the street, but our theory is that it looks better now than it did before. My daughter’s planting program is all about making things look beautiful. The strawberry pots that hang from the front porch are hers too. As the berries ripen one at a time, the hope still exists that there will be a big enough crop to share for breakfast. Read the rest of this entry »
