It's the photos

The garden catalogs have begun to arrive. (Oh happy day!) And, oh-my-gosh, I hate to be negative on such a joyous occasion, but I have one (tiny) grievance -- the photos. Nearly every single picture shows a closeup of the plant's bloom.

Now I'll be the first to admit that flowers catch my eye. They are beautiful. (What an inadequate word!) But over the years, I've learned that my garden is made up of much more than flowers. It's really the foliage and structure of a plant that I need to see -- not just the blooms. And yet, in all honesty, photos of single specimens can seem dull and not really likely to inspire me to part with many dollars and cents. (The main purpose of the catalog, after all.)

Maybe the answer lies in publications like ours doing a better job of showing gardeners what plants really look like in the garden. Maybe we should be taking photos of the warts and all in our -- and other people's -- gardens.

What do you think?

And so it begins

It started early this morning. I'm not sure why. But there it was -- a little warm exclamation point in the pit of my stomach.

For some reason, I'd started thinking of the old gro-lights that are resting comfortably on the top, right-hand shelf of the utility room cabinets. And of maybe ordering a few seeds to start indoors later this winter. Then, when I got to work a few hours later, I received an email comment about an earlier blog of mine. 'Tina' suggested wintersowing some of those 5,700 larkspur seeds that I'd already ordered.

Wintersowing -- Hmmm...that means NOW.

What an appealing thought.

I am SAD

Unfortunately for family members, coworkers and kettle bell ringers, I am one of the millions of Americans who is afflicted with Seasonal Affective Disorder, or SAD -- a form of depression. Doubly unfortunate is the fact that its symptoms peak during the end of December. So, just when I ought to be ho-ho-ho-ing, I'm looking for a hole to crawl into instead.

With the progressively lengthening days of January - and the arrival of the new gardening catalogs - I begin to perk up. My focus shifts from dull and dreary to sunny and sublime.

As I wait for that time, I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a truly blessed New Year.

What a difference a day makes

Yesterday, I'm writing about snow. Today, I'm ordering 5,700 larkspur seeds. (That's half an ounce in case you're wondering.)

Who can understand the mind of a gardener?

Well, now that I actually stop to think about it, maybe those two things are related. Before the snow, all I could see was a past-its-prime garden in need of some serious cleanup. After the snow, I looked out the same window onto the same scene and I saw a clean, blank -- albeit, white -- slate. (Just waiting to be filled with larkspur apparently.)

I've been possessed by these annual delphiniums ever since I visited Ann Tice's Champaign garden. (You can get a glimpse of what I'm talking about in this photo and a more in-depth look in our Photo Galleries on this website. Just click on the O&E Contributors' Gardens Album.)



Ann was gracious enough to send me some of her larkspur seeds last fall. I scattered them about -- per her instructions -- and waited expectantly for tiny seedlings to appear. Unfortunately, shortly after that sowing, we experienced a torrential downpour that must have washed those seeds at least two counties away. (If you wind up with orphaned larkspur in your yard next spring, you'll know who to thank.)

I'm hoping 5,700 will be enough to account for any losses should a similar situation occur in the spring. And if there is no downpour, well, so much the better -- because no gardener can ever really have too much a good thing

A matter of perspective

Snow.

It has a way of changing your outlook, doesn't it?

I remember my husband telling me about a pastor who once preached a sermon on the subject of women wearing makeup. (Not a topic you hear much about these days...) Anyway, this man's conclusion was that "any old barn looks better with a coat of paint."

Surely that sentiment applies to my garden, too.

A mere five inches of snow has restored its beauty. Never mind that underneath that pristine blanket lies a multitude of 'sins' -- unraked debris, perennial weeds and more than a few pests, I'm sure.

Today, right now, it's exquisite.

And that's enough.