The Imperfect Gardener

by Adina Sara

It is a rainy, bleak January day at the time of this writing. Looking for inspiration, I decided to take a walk around my rain-soaked garden and see what wisdom I could glean from the weather-worn remains of last year.

In mid-January, my very large and lush garden has a puny array of color. A few pink azaleas are hanging on for dear life; the New Guinea impatiens never stop blooming; and a few rugged blue flowers on the Solanum jasminoides are waving their heads around. Lots of long purple strings on the Mexican sage, of course, but those are just taken for granted. The common Montanoa shrubs (daisies) shout out the color yellow, and even the boring background jade trees are veiled in a lacy sheath of white. For everything, there is a season.

But for the most part, as I attempt to write an inspiring garden column, all I see is a wet mass of uninspiring green and brown. The work is clear: If it's brown, it needs to be pruned roses, fruit trees, and perennial shrubs that look as if they've died but are merely resting. If it's green, it needs some room to grow. Clear away the wet leaves and excess branches, give it a stake to grow against, a rock to lean on.

Sharpen your garden tools, or buy some new ones. Collect all the flower stakes and hose attachments that are likely buried under leaves. You'll have to fight the urge to bring plants home from the nursery. Remember that the bright and beautiful plants for sale in January were all carefully nurtured in a perfect greenhouse environment. Better wait a little longer. If you can.

The Bulbs Have It

It is always a source of amazement how, underneath layers of neglect, there are always sprouts of new life. The bulbs, for instance, planted months ago and forgotten. Everywhere I turn, I see a thick clump of fresh young shoots promising to do something spectacular. The blue ipheion shoots (spring starflower) have gnarled their way out from between the stepping stones, having tripled in girth from last year. The tips of freesia shoots are peeking out from a thick carpet of clover. Daffodils stand tall in a bed of wet leaves along with what looks to be hyacinth.

Some bulb shoots I can't quite identify, but there is no mistaking the gladiolus. They were first planted three years ago in the wrong spot, not nearly enough sun. I moved them to another unsuitable place that gave them no room to climb. Finally, last October, I dug them all up and put them where they were meant to be along the face of my deck, where they will get all the sun and height they need. They are already three feet high, months before blooming time. I hoped they would offer a nice backdrop to the annuals, but it appears that they plan to take over the entire bed. Let them. They waited long enough to find a deserving home.

Last summer a neighbor gave me a bag of bulbs that he had dug out and could not identify. Just said they were tall and smelled great. I stuck them everywhere and already see them poking up, green and strong, the only signs of life in once-lush flower beds. The mystery of who they are will not be solved for months. The waiting is part of the pleasure.

There isn't much mystery as to what needs to be done at the end of winter: Clean up and wait. You will get very busy out there soon enough, and there is something to be said for having nothing to do.

Gardening Exchange

I have not received any requests or offers for plant exchange. Everyone's been indoors fortoo long. This column is an opportunity to share your excess plant materials with gardening neighbors and get some new plants for the price of a visit. Take advantage of this easy and economical opportunity to landscape your garden. E-mail Imperfectgardens\@comcast.net with plants you wish to share.