Do you remember your earliest garden influences? Mine are solid Sunflower County gold.
I just started my summer garden by tucking some basil into what is literally the fastest garden on earth.
Some thirty-odd years ago, in response to someone moaning about not being able to garden, I tasked myself with developing the simplest garden ever. Needed to be inexpensive, alluring, edible, and low maintenance.
There are some interesting experiences worth having, but not often. Eating hot peppers and poking myself in the eye come to mind.
Not that I don’t enjoy the gustatory volcano and its subsequent endorphin bliss, or seeing shooting stars in a temporarily-blinded eye, but I appreciate both being temporary.
Landscape gardening sometimes involves hard decisions where no solution seems just right. But “between a rock and a hard place” dissonance can be resolved by going in an entirely different direction.
Take my newish crape myrtles, carefully hand-picked and pruned to frame my circular backyard and provide light neighborly privacy.
While a lot of my job is to share interesting garden techniques and “how-to” information, sometimes I’m asked for help with interpersonal or social issues.
Is your mid-winter garden heart-warming, even when viewed through a fogged-up window?
Don’t get me wrong, most days are beautiful in the South. But I constantly prowl around for practical, seasonal garden ideas, especially in January and February when temperatures drop quickly from Spring-like glory into chilly, wet, and gloomy.
All this cold rain has finally convinced my trees to molt their remaining Autumn leaves, and I’m feeling exposed.
Though I’m not secretive at all, don’t feel like hiding and don’t have much to hide from neighbors, I do appreciate the feeling of not living in tight urban confines.
Let’s kick this new garden year off by getting more of something while giving part of it away.
When I root cuttings of favorite old shrubs, throw wildflower seeds out my truck window, or dig up daylilies and iris and split them into smaller plants, I end up with more than I started with, usually with leftovers to share.
I appreciate all seasons, but the relaxed Mississippi Autumn brings out a joyous if wistful rush in me.
Gardening isn’t all how-to advice (which isn’t universally accepted anyway – such is the fate of all garden experts); sometimes it’s more stop-and-smell-the-roses.