This year was the best Spring I can remember. It just rolled out soft and sweet. No late freezes, no extreme temps, no bad storms, and lovely, beautiful, consistent precipitation. It was wonderful and I don’t know which was worse, that the heat and drought came on like someone had thrown a switch or knowing that it would.
So maybe our first goal in urban horticulture should be to use plants to benefit people and, extapolated from that, if a project is also environmentally and economically successful, then there is the bit we expected from horticulture in the first place.
Hell, I've learned that shit dies. I’ve come to accept that. Sort of. And if a Liatris succumbs to a Chionanthus, so be it. I'm not its mother. It won't be on my conscience.
For those who plant them in rows, expect rows. Those who plant them in drifts, expect drifts. And those who plant them where they would plant themselves, will expect to see that. And all will be lifted by the dependably sunny blooms on cold spring days.
Maybe the biggest miracle of all is that there is enough bounty, beauty, and love for everyone if we tend our world as we tend our gardens.
In the past, I tried different systems—various word files, spreadsheets, folders filled with dirty plant tags, and more. But none of these worked. They depended on following up after a day in the garden, or keeping tags or notes in some kind of order. File under "Never Had a Chance."
I love pawpaw trees. In the shade, spindly and stretching. In the sun, pyramidal and bedecked with foliage of a tropical flare.
I love what this garden represents, what it's doing, and all it will do. Good people working the soil, growing healthy food, feeding the pollinators, meeting each other, and playing. Yes, playing.
While these hostas are blooming in the darker spaces, the phlox are rocking the sun. And have been for seemingly months.
Periodically, I go visit my sister in San Jose. Every time I do, I'm fascinated to see so many of the same plants I grow in Cincinnati's wet and [...]
I'm thinking my life has maybe culminated. I'm no longer working towards this big thing. The big thing is over and now it's kind of like I'm being stretchered away from it.
Some of these combinations are quite good. Some came by intent, some by serendipity. However they happened, that’s what years of growth and crowding, forgotten sowings, and much, much more allows. It’s what happens when wait-and-see wisdom gradually undermines sheer energy and willpower.
