Sunday, March 2, 2008


The gardening catalogs keep coming in the mail. I still look through them and plan my imaginary garden even though I know it will never come to be.

I was fortunate enough to grow up in a part of Pennsylvania where you could just sort of look at a spot on the ground and think about what you'd like to have there, and it would start to grow spontaneously. My mother always had flowers. And when I was a child, each summer I had a little vegetable plot with a row of carrots, a row of beets, and one of parsley.

In my twenties, I moved to New York's Long Island. Again - no problem with gardening. I never read a book on the subject. Just went by instinct. Our garden was always full of whatever flowers took my fancy each year. Everything thrived.

Then I moved to New
Jersey. The "Garden State". For several years I filled the yard with flowers and sometimes tried new things, out of curiosity. One year I grew peanuts and cotton successfully. One summer was filled with Jerusalem artichokes.

But now I am an old lady and unable to stay out in the sun very long and cannot do much digging or weeding. I miss having my gardens. But I do have my bulbs to present me with spring gifts, and a few perennials to bring the butterflies. And there are lots of pots here and there. I s
till like to try new and different things now and then. A dwarf orange tree might be fun.

It never ceases to amaze - a simple little seed, eventually turning itself into something so very beautiful. I cannot imagine a life without the opportunity to watch things grow - plants - or children. They are both exciting to observe and bring so much pleasure to our lives. And, of course, sometimes frustration and/or disappointment. But there's always hope for the next season. Something to look forward to - to plan for. Anticipation is what keeps us keeping on.

To plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow. - Anonymous


Dianne said...

"to plant a garden is to believe in tomorrow"

Oh Yes :)

I plant in pots too bobbie, as my back problem gets worse. I too have discovered that not all the earth here in the "Garden State" is all that garden friendly. It's constant work (but I love it) to keep the lawn healthy.

My dream is to have a little greenhouse. One of the "famous firemen" from my pool adventure said he'd put it together for me. I've been bookmarking the sites that sell them but they're expensive.

Sandpiper (Lin) said...

I used to have such pretty gardens, but more and more I lean toward what is easier to grow, some in pots, etc. Where I live now, there are so many rocks, it's difficult to dig and plant things, so my garden tends toward the more natural appearance.

me ann my camera said...

How much I enjoyed your post today. We are avid gardners, but it has only in the last ten years that we have become so. Previous years we were always too busy or involved in other things; now we thrive as our garden thrives. Growing things give us a contented peace of mind and as we watch our plants and flowers grow we gain a broader understanding, insight and appreciation of the endless cycle of growth and renewal and regeneration. Your post was a very enjoyable read.

KG said...

Good for you for gardening! I've always really enjoyed driving by a neat little house with a well-designed garden.

I, on the other hand, kill every single plant I've ever come into contact with.

kenju said...

Bobbie, I think planning a garden - even though you know it may not come to be - is an excellent way to keep your mind working well. You can always seek out gardening blogs and live vicariously through them!

Anonymous said...

Bobbie - Enjoyed your blooms, butterflies and uplifting muse on all things growing... Deb

Crayons said...

Hi Bobbie,

Yes, I really agree with you about the miracle that plants provide. I've never been a gardner, but have come to appreciate the details (each plant) and the general (garden planning) over the years.

My mother had a beautiful, wild, English-style garden for decades.

PS: Thanks for your encouraging and insightful comments on my drawings.