We all want to be hopeful. We try to be optimistic. But often it just isn't our nature. I was reminded of this one beautiful, spring afternoon when I worked at a nursery and retail garden center. A customer spread her carefully-chosen selection of plants on the counter in order to pay for her purchase, and confidently stated, "I know I'll kill every single one of these." When I asked her why she would make such a statement, she replied, "Because I've killed every plant I've ever tried to grow. I even killed Kudzu once."
Occasionally there are those rare years when I can get an early start in my garden, and I can stay on top of things all season. But those years are few and far between, and this is not one of them. I tell myself that it's just as well, because if I had done all that work early on, then had experienced the destruction on the spring storms we've had... well, my feelings really would have been hurt. I don't know that I've ever been more behind on my yard work than I am this year.
We used to have a beautiful water garden, my husband and I. But recently we converted it into a planting bed. I don't know what kind of bed to call it, because it has yet to be planted. Eventually it may become a perennial bed, but as of this moment we're still in the process of filling in the gaping hole that used to be a one-thousand-plus-gallon pond.
Water is an amazing thing. Everything on this earth depends on the availability of water in specific amounts. Its makeup is far beyond my understanding. Read the nutritional label on any container of commercially bottled water and what do you see? Nothing. No calories, no vitamins, no protein, no fiber... none of the things that our bodies need to function properly are listed there. Yet without it, our bodies could not survive.
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| Juncus 'Spiralis' (Corkscrew Grass) in water garden |
It was during a thorough cleaning of my storage building recently that some of these thoughts of water began to "flood" my mind. But the thoughts weren't so much of water's life-giving properties as they were of the affects that water has on various things - in particular, a bag of fertilizer.
The coldest part of winter has just passed. I haven't seen many signs of life in my garden for a couple of months. Now that the weather is beginning to warm somewhat I'm itching to get outside and dig in the dirt. But at the moment all I can do is gaze out the window and dream of Spring and the gardening I plan to do when the weather is right... or I can start to formulate a plan.
By formulating a plan, I mean planning my plant purchases... getting ready to buy. If you have ever ordered anything from a business that sells plants, or even anything plant-related, you have more than likely landed on a dozen or more mailing lists. Plant catalogs are arriving in your mailbox right about now in a steady stream. Maybe it's your e-mail inbox that being innundated. At any rate, the plant businesses know that we're all working ourselves into a buying frenzy.
As a rule, when I think of putting more plants into my beds or borders, I usually don't find myself considering purchasing more of what I already have. If I wanted more of the same, all I would have to do is dig and divide. I want something new. I want something different. I want something that my fellow gardeners don't have (and that they will envy). So I peruse the pages of the printed materials and surf the web to find anything with those magical words "New and Improved!"
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| Zinnia 'Cascade Beauty' - Trailing Zinnia |
My next-door-neighbor, Pam, had a look of near shock on her face. "Oh, no! Now they will surely die!" she shuddered. I was quite puzzled, standing in my back yard and holding the armload of Iris bulbs that she had just given to me. "You never tell someone 'thank you' for a plant they give you!"
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| Daylily given to me by my sister, Linda. |
There are those who embrace change. They live for something different, the excitement of things fresh and new. I am not one of those. Now, I will "tweak" things to the point of madness; deciding on a more convenient place in the kitchen cabinet for the spices, or a more logical location for the trashcan, but as a whole I prefer the familiar, the comfortable, the things to which I have become accustomed.
I am a plant snob. At least that's what a friend of mine jokingly calls me. She calls me that because I often use the botanical names of plants, rather than the common names.
The window at my kitchen sink is the window that I look out more than any other window in my house. For the longest time, the view out of this window was probably the least attractive of any view from any other window.
The first time I ever heard a fellow gardener refer to some of her plants as "IBM's", I wondered when IBM Corp. had branched out, so to speak, into the world of floriculture. I couldn't wait to see what strange new offerings she had, and I was already plotting the most understated manner in which to convince her to offer me a few cuttings or divisions. A little further into our conversation, it became clear that IBM simply stood for "I've Been Moved."
It seems that if there is one thing all dyed-in-the-wool gardeners have in common, it's the tendency to move our plants about from one location to another in our landscapes.
I have mixed emotions about weeds. Well, mostly I despise them for being such a nuisance in my flowerbeds. But occasionally I come across a weed with such a simple beauty that I am compelled to leave it where it grows. There are actually times when I will photograph one of my weeds, such as the one pictured at the right. How can one not appreciate the delicate, fringe-like white petals, the warm, golden eye, and the the understated beauty of this little plant? I am even drawn to its slightly bitter fragrance as it evokes memories of walking through the pasture behind the little white frame house where I lived as a small child. Why not enjoy the weeds? After all, they are technically "native plants."
As gardeners, plant-enthusiasts or landscape designers, it seems as if we have a tendency to tinker too much with nature.
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Lonicera fragrantissima
(Fragrant Honeysuckle) |
I once heard an interview with a gardener who was totally blind. As she talked about the various ways in which she enjoyed her garden without the ability to see, it was not surprising that she mentioned the importance of her sense of smell. What did surprise me, however, was her answer to a question regarding her favorite smell. She replied that it was the first smell she was aware of after the winter thaw and the melting of the snow... it was the smell of the soil. That was the smell that she anticipated the most and the aroma that she most cherished.
Favorite. That word brings to mind other words, such as best, prettiest, smartest... all those words that seem to describe things that have the highest "rankings" in appearance, value, talent, etc. But that lady's statement started a flood of memories for me of some of my favorite smells.
Oh, sure, there were some "beautiful" fragrances in my favorite memories, like the smell of honeysuckle that used to grow up and down the ditch bank that ran alongside the road that led to my father's horse barn. But a smell that ranked far higher in my favorites was the smell of the horse barn itself. I recall that heady combination of the scratchy hay we played in up in the hayloft, the dust that was so thick at times it would cover you in a thin layer of mud if you had worked up a sweat in the heat of the Arkansas summer, the molasses that had been added to the combination of oats and grains for the sweet-feed for the animals, the horses that stomped and whinnied when we ran giggling through the barn and interrupted their afternoon nap, and yes, even the manure that my sister and I were assigned to remove from each stall with pitchforks and transport by wheelbarrow to a pile that my dad kept near the ditch behind the barn. All of those smells blended together to create a fragrance I prefer over the finest perfumes.
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| Lonicera fragrantissima (Fragrant Honeysuckle) |
There's the musty, dusty smell of cotton that's just been picked and is piled high like summertime drifts of snow in green metal trailers as they wait to be taken to the gin and pressed into bales. Those drifts of cotton provided hours and hours of entertainment for my sister and me as we tunnelled through and mounded up piles of cotton, building forts and caves for cowboys and indians in which to hide and from which to attack. As a child, I couldn't have told you that cotton had a smell. But as an adult, a whiff of that dusty fragrance takes me back to wonderful, carefree days when my greatest concern was convincing my mother to give me just a few more minutes to play outside before I had to come in and clean up for supper.
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| Rosa 'Janet' |
Memories as vivid as these help me to understand the power of the sense of smell. It's not something neutral. It will make either a positive impression or a negative impression. And the impression it makes on someone is powerful and long-lasting. Keeping that in mind, have you ever wondered how God must smell? Why wouldn't He have some sort of smell? His Word tells us that He is something that we will someday see, and it gives us a limited description of how He looks. If we will listen, we can hear His voice as He speaks to us. When we draw close to Him there are times we can actually feel His presence. In the Psalms we are told that if we take refuge in Him, we can taste and see that the Lord is good.
The Bible actually describes us who are Christians as "spiritual diffusers" for lack of a better phrase. "But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowlede of Him." II Corinthinas 2:14.
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| Gardenia jasminoides 'August Beauty' |
In other words, God leads me to spread the fragrance of the knowledge of Him to everyone with whom I come in contact. He wants me to smell like Him, in order that others can breathe deeply of a fragrance they've never before experienced; a fragrance that they should want for themselves. But, can those around me recognize "the fragrance of the knowledge of Him," or are they unable to be recognize it because of the stench of my self-absorbed lifestyle. Perhaps a good, long soak in Him every day will allow His fragrance to come through.
"Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you. Come near to God and He will come near to you. Wash your hands, you sinners, and purify your hearts, you double-minded." James 4:7-8
Transplanting... probably most gardeners' favorite thing to do. After all, that's what gardening is all about, isn't it? We take those little seedlings that we have started from seed, and we transplant them... we set them out in their chosen place in the garden so they can add their beauty or provide their fruits.
And I love the fact that here in this part of the country I can find something to transplant just about any time of year. Even in the cold of late winter, I can transplant pansies or dianthus, as long as the ground isn't frozen. But when it comes to transplanting, it's not the pansies or the petunias or the peppers that come to mind. It is, and always will be, my dear friend Allison.
When the ground is completely covered in snow, and all of the trees stand starkly bare against the gray sky, everything appears to be lifeless. No growth is visible. No fruit is being produced. No flowers are filling the spaces with color and fragrance. There seems to be no point in the season. Everything is dormant... in a state of rest. Ah! There is the point in the season. A state of rest.
Devotional writings and plant photography for gardeners and plant lovers
During my times with dirty hands, I've learned many of my life's most memorable lessons. Weeding, dead-heading, pruning, mulching, planting; these are the times when I am most likely to hear that still, small voice revealing a simple, yet profound truth, always in an analogy of what I'm doing with the plants or the soil. Those truths have changed the way in which I live my life, the manner in which I relate to my family, the way I view the lives of others, and especially my relationship with God.
I hope to share some of my favorite stories, revelations, blessings, memories, and photos of my plants through this blog.
"But blessed is the man who trusts in the Lord, whose confidence is in Him. He will be like a tree planted by the water that sends its roots out by the stream. It does not fear when heat comes; it's leaves are always green. It has no worries in a year of drought and never fails to bear fruit." Jeremiah 17:7-8
