Assumptions redux

a lesson in embarrassing questions

I know little about gardening, sadly. I assume lots of things without checking them. I need stipulate those conditions as I begin today.

I have lived primarily in apartments or condominia so I have not had the opportunity—or patience—to learn about the fundamentals about gardening. I doubt it helped that I ran up to a newly planted container when I was 7 thinking it was going to have a beautiful scent as roses do. It was a geranium which I thought smelled horrible. Since I assumed my mother put this evil plant out to discourage my investigation, I decided I was uninterested in gardening. Then we started moving and the rest was history.

It took me another thirty years to try planting tulip bulbs. They came up so I decided I would become more aggressive—how hard could this really be? Well, if you don’t read the instructions, it can be pretty expensively disastrous. I planted a row of nandina bushes along the side of one of those few houses where I lived, not realising I needed to break up the root balls. Mind you, I never thought to read instructions because this was plants so they just go into the soil, then add water, right? Wrongo.

I have gradually begun succeeding container plants once I gave up on tomatoes. I either over watered them or underwatered them; same with beautiful roses. I suppose the only things that freed me to try one more time was the pandemic and moving to beautiful Eastport as I was desperate to be outside on our wonderful balcony or the front patio which gets an incredible baking from a direct westerly sun.

I always have baskets (I even assembled them a couple of years ago rather than buying pre-mades) because I so love the colour. Last year I harvested quite a bit of basil, lettuce, rosemary, and a few other herbs from containers. I also succeeded in producing tulips when the bloody squirrels (my husband refers to them as rats with tails) don’t find my lovingly nurtured bulbs. I was so proud of this one last year.

And this one a fortnight ago.

So, beginning to feel my oats, I decided to tackle the huge bed in front of our seven unit condo building that I realise is empty because I am allowed to fill it (only took me four years to figure this out). Rules say I have to get permission from the HOA (I am not a good permission person as you likely have figured out) for perennials but I can plant whatever annuals I like. I have been thinking about a design and everything. I am so excited to do this!!

My preference is to buy plants from our neighbourhood plant stand about half a mile from here on the edge of a shopping center. They set up in the spring, have great plants, then sell veg and fruits over the summer before moving to mums in the fall. They close out with Christmas trees for December, then shut down until spring. They actually take the tents down entirely so it looks as if they are not reopening every year until they do. No evidence right now they are opening soon but I am confident they will rise again. They are as perpetual as the sun rising in the east.

You would think I might consider this data in the context of actions and consequences thing but you may have figured me out.

No matter, Home Depot will have them, I thought. I bought these particular plants there a couple of years back. I went to Home Depot yesterday morning, only to find a sickly array of the desired plants. They had the colour but the plants really looked weak and they did not quite meet what I had in mind. I decided to get what I want instead of kicking myself later as I have this plan I have been hatching for about 8 months.

I have plant favourites delivering the craved colour and helping the bee and butterfly populations. I put bee’s balm (it’s up to about four years’ duration if you can believe it) and nepeta out during the pandemic with bees coming as a result. The plants are coming back but a huge planter full of pinwheel red petunias will be nothing short of glorious.

My husband asked me this morning if I’d like to go to one of the gardening places to fulfill my desire. I immediately suggested we go to the epicenter of planting in Anne Arundel County, Homewood Gardens. Both of its locations have anything a planter could desire from baskets to annuals to perennials to tchotchas to clothes to anything. We got to Davidsonville at about 0935 which would beat the crowds. I was feeling so fat and sassy about my project.

Except I could not find petunias. I found pansies, dianthus, clematis, and on and on and on. I went through annuals, then went out to perennials thinking I might have missed a whole section of annuals. I went back inside to the green house part where the annuals were but no dice. My husband was eyeing a saw of some sort, commenting on how sturdy it was built but I knew he was killing time for me to figure out where the petunias were. I also saw no hanging baskets with fuschia which I bought there year before last. Was the epicenter deteriorating?

He mentioned asking someone before we headed home. I found a somewhat harried staff member but she stopped to answer me with a weak smile.

‘Am I missing something? Is it too early for petunias or do you have them somewhere I missed them?’

It was all she could do to keep from laughing. If she had been drinking coffee, it would have gone all across the room.

‘Petunias? Haven’t you heard of not planting before Mother’s Day? No, you need hot for petunias. NO petunias.’ And she was off to answer some other silly question from another rube.

But what about global warming, I wondered. Doesn’t that mean we are able to plant earlier? It could be hot here by a week from now. But but but but but.

Truth was I should have known that Diehl’s tents were not up at the shopping center yet—and Diehl’s sells a lot of pinwheel petunias as I have bought extras there. I should have known that Home Depot probably errs on the early side of selling but not to the point of something freezing a month before the last known freeze. I should have remembered the times I took my young daughter with me to buy plants for the Alexandria balcony, usually on Mother’s Day.

Truth is I let my conviction of my superior project to dazzle everyone get ahead of my common sense—and the calendar. Actions create consequences. I let my fantasy overrun reality.

Nothing about today’s column is cosmic, thankfully. The plants will appear late next month, including a fuschia for a basket and some other things that will appeal to me. I will get to plant the petunias but not before the frost date so I can grow them rather than merely planting them to die in a cold snap. But, it was a gentle reminder that neither wishful thinking nor focusing on news headlines changes conditions much of the time on the ground. Sigh.

We took our walk this afternoon. I took my good camera so I could satisfy my desire for colour with a macro lens. I hope you enjoy what I found in what I call Eastport Walkabout pictures.

This final one is a weed in a crack of the sidewalk. Life is amazing.

Thank you for reading ACC. I hope I made you smile today. I enjoy hearing from you so please share your stories of planting, of spring, of colour or of any assumptions that you might have tested better. I appreciate those of you who subscribe financially.

Be well and be safe. FIN