Updated: Mar 22
It’s the first day of Spring. The sun is shining and it’s not freezing outside, so that’s good.
I’m hoping to get in the spirit.
I’d like to have a garden this year. In years past I’ve only planted peppers and tomatoes and herbs. It might be the smallest garden ever - a little square of a thing. I’ve been afraid to do anything more.
I’m not quite sure how to go about it. You have to get all the conditions just right. Too much water and your plant will drown and the roots will suffocate. Not enough water and your plant closes up and dries out. Either way, the thing dies.
Sunlight’s important too. I know I need its energy and warmth.
Choosing the right soil also seems like a tough task. Whatever ingredients are in there are supposed to feed and nurture your plant, but what do you need in the mix?
I don’t know.
Then there’s this business about pruning. How do you know how much to pinch off and what gets to stay?
You could do everything just right and still a pesky little animal or a slug or something can come and eat away all your good efforts.
Once, I found daffodil bulbs on a shelf in my garage. They’d been there for along time and I felt guilty throwing them out. Instead, I threw them on the hillside in my backyard. The backyard is wooded and the ground is thick with clay and shale. I threw the bulbs up and let them land where they wanted.
I’ve never tended to my daffodils and yet they bloom every year. They bloom every year on that wooded hillside. I expected nothing and yet they are the hardiest, most reliable plant.
My friend once said to me, “All things in life are about maintenance.” He should know...
he’s a landscaper.
I know anything worth having requires work. You have to feed and water and prune and plow your way through life.
And yet I think, some things are just supposed to be easy, like my daffodils.