Introduction to Reluctant Gardening

If dandelions were hard to grow, they would be most welcome on any lawn.                                                                                                                                           ~Andrew Mason

I haven't always been a gardener (or a green thumb for that fact) but I have always had a love for flowers. Perhaps its a natural instinct to relish the beauty and delicacy of a bloom. To rejoice in the returning burst of color and scent after a long and bitter winter. 

Or perhaps it was the influence of my grandmother, Donna. I remember clearly sitting beneath a bright summer sun as she examined her little kingdom of bleeding hearts, trumpet vines, and rhododendron. My grandmother loved plants and gardening, and she encouraged me to always grow. And when I couldn't grow, she reminded me to take the time to stop and smell the roses - literally.

Over the years I have learned my own style of gardening that both infuriates some (particularly my mum) and amuses others. I call it my "Reluctant Gardening". 

Now this does not mean that I do not want to garden, per say, but it more of means, to me, that I do not overbear in my garden. I sow my seeds, I give them sun and water and time, while I sit back and wait. Often I create a pattern for myself, watering at certain times (and sometimes forgetting to water at all) and just let nature make its own course. The tools of my garden are my own hands, some good dark dirt, a watering can, and some creativity.

Over the years it has served me well to just let things find their own ways. There have been some surprising successes - like when I planted my Bleeding Heart in the shade instead of in full sun, which is the flower's preferred level of lighting. It turns out that my little plant absolutely loved the shade and basked in late evening glows. It grew so robust and overpowering that it actually overran an entire corner of my mother's garden. The only survivor against the Bleeding Heart that year was a purple Iris that had been planted by the previous home owner. 

But there has been some crushing failures as well. The mite outbreak that not only wiped out my prized pink Asian Orchid (Cymbidium), but also killed 12 other orchids belonging to myself and my roommates. Or worse, my four year old bamboo tree that had been half dead when I found it shuffled away to a clearance rack in Lowes for a meager two dollars. Everyone was certain the thing would be dead in days but I watered it and gave it a little boast. Soon the bamboo burst from a lowly 4" up to a delightful 7". At it's fullest, the bamboo stood a 1 1/2 feet tall and its foliage reached about 14" across. It had survived 3 re-plantings, 6 moves, 3 different temperate zones, and various other discomforts (including sharing its pot with a betta fish). But it's final move to my new home in Indianapolis seemed to have sucked the last bit of fight of my beloved "Fergie". The roots withered and he began rotting from in the inside. It was a crushing blow.

But I have learned that in the life of the garden, there are wins and there are losses. One must dust themselves off, adjust their gloves, and dig back into the dirt. 

Hopefully this blog will better help me document my successes and learn from my mistakes. 

My green thumb came only as a result of the mistakes I made while learning to see things from the plant's point of view. ~H. Fred Dale