The Garden Diva in May

Bedding Plants

Dear Readers, it is here! The month of May, when all is blissful, all is green, and gardens are finally planted.
So then, you are all of f to the local store to buy your bedding plants? Not quite so quickly, dear reader. Learn from The Garden Diva’s (TGD) folly, read some of her mistakes, so you don’t have to make your own.

Over the years, TGD has often found herself promising the tres wonderful garden diva husband that she would only purchase a certain dollar value of bedding plants. (No dear reader, you don’t want to know how much. Sufficed to say that there were zero’s and decimal points.) After many sad reckonings, TGD now takes her garden plans, carefully calculates the number of bedding plants she requires, and makes a list. Here is the important part, dear reader, she only purchases what is on the list. (Honestly dear reader, why are you snickering? Have you been talking to the garden diva husband again?)

Next, consider when you want to plant. Remember, the average last frost date is May 7th. (TGD plants all her garden seeds around this time, if not earlier). It is often best to wait a bit until putting your bedding plants out - many people go to their local garden centre or store on the first day of the May long weekend. TGD tends to go before this, to ensure that she has the absolute best selection, and the healthiest plants. Often she will go on the Friday night. This is when the veteran gardeners go. Wear comfortable shoes and have a list. You will need them.
Perhaps the most important thing to consider when buying bedding plants is the health of the plant. Choose good sized plants with healthy leaves. Examine the plants closely. The soil should be moist. Avoid plants that are very dry (the plant will feel very light and the dirt will be light brown and hard) or plants that are very wet (water drips out of the soil when squeezed, or there is evidence of moss or mold).

Check for sun damage – yellow or brown spots on leaves, or insects – small portions of the leaves looking chewed, holes in the leaves, bugs on the undersides of plants or rolled up leaves.
Look at the roots, they should not be coming out of the bottom of the plant cell. Carefully grasp a seedling at it’s base, pull it out of the plant cell. You should be able to see a good root system, but avoid roots that are spiralled around the plant – these are root bound and may not transplant well.

Choose plants that are a good size, and quite bushy. You don’t want spindly little seedlings that will die in full sun. Review TGD’s columns from May 2007 regarding planting, and the April 2007 column on getting your dirt ready.

Finally dear reader, a note about where to buy your plants – feel free to purchase your geraniums, your petunias and your pansies from where ever you can find them on sale (just get healthy ones). If you are purchasing more expensive and exotic bedding plants, or if you are purchasing perennials, do not purchase those from anything other than a garden centre. A garden center can provide you with good information about the location to plant your new darling, any extra soil amendments, and if necessary, any overwintering measures to take. Really dear readers, a knowledgeable garden centre is a gardener’s greatest asset.

TGD lives and gardens in Edmonton, with the trés wonderful gardening diva husband and the non-gardening dogs. She insists that every yard should have a flower or two. Next month she shall talk about your front lawn. Yes dear reader, yours. The one with all the weeds in it.

What I would have taught him

I would have had him weed with me. A horrible form of child abuse, accompanied by protestations of "Aww mum, other families just buy their food at the grocery store"

And I would have taught him to watch with his eyes and his hands. Plants coming back to life after winter are fragile things. What we see and what we feel are different. Trust your feelings, your remembrances before you blindly believe what is in front of you. There is life all around us.

I would have taught him that weeding matters - pulling weeds in spring is easier than pulling weeds in late summer. You don't have to do everything perfectly, but some things should be done well. Choose what you put your effort into.

I would have taught him about the secret lives of insects. Of worms that move through the soil, fertilizing and aerating. Of ladybugs that eat insects, of beetles, of ants. I would have taught him the wonder of an ant colony, and the need to sit and watch for hours, to truly understand. I would have taught him that all living things have worth, and we need to be kind to creation, at least until it eats the beans.

I would have taught him to be patient, gardens take time. Seeds are slow to germinate, plants are slow to grow. Gardens involve long term planning. You will need to see the next five years in your head before you see the results in front of your eyes. You will water and hoe and weed and thin long before you ever pick or eat. And what you planted, it will look nothing like what you pictured, and nothing like the photo. That's ok. What it looks like is what it is.

I would have taught him the joy of honest work. Of the ache in your shoulders and the back of your thighs, that speaks of digging and turning over soil, of crouching down to pull weeds, of moving backwards as you plant a row of seeds. I would have taught him that after a day of hard work, you sit on your back deck, you will be proud. Of the work that you have done, and the life that you have coaxed forth. And one day, on that deck, I would have handed him his first beer, because gardeners get beer after a long day, and I don't care that you are only 13.

I would have taught him that having a plan saves time. But plans aren't just organization, they are dreams. And dreams matter in this world. I would have taught him of the companionship we can have with those who share our dreams. And that when you strike out in this world on your own, you should find someone who can share your dreams.

I would have taught him about sustainability. A good garden requires far more of you, than you get out of it. I would have taught him that pesticides and insecticides and fertilizer are no compensation for time and sweat and good compost dug in, they are the easy way out. I would have taught him that we must consider how we act, and how we treat the earth. There are many people on the earth, and we must make our footprints small, and it doesn't matter what bags and bottles the neighbour opens, you just keep digging up that quack grass.

I would have taught him that nothing is certain, and that you sometimes have t0 pick yourself up and start over after you loose everything to frost, to bugs, to early winter, to rain, to just the vagaries of seeds. Nothing in this life is certain but death and quack grass. There's always next year.

I would have taught him that in the year the broccoli is eaten by moth's, and the potato's by beetles, that is the year that the carrots will take off. And that there is no bug or pest or blight that will eat an entire crop of zucchini, and that's why you are grating it for chocolate cake.

I would have taught him the joy of feeding your own family. I would have taught him the very special wonder that is a carrot dug fresh from the ground, cold and wet, rinsed off under the garden hose. I would have taught him the sweetness in a pod of garden peas. Pulled off the vine on a hot day, warm in your mouth. I would have taught him the smell of fresh herbs on your hands, as you move to pick them, dodging lazy bees who seek flowers for their honey.

The smell of fresh dirt has a fragrance all it's own. Flowers have their own thoughts and heart, and vegetables are a new promise every spring.

These things my son, these things, I would have taught you.

Tests

God is a funny guy, he gives you the test and then you spend a life time trying to figure out if you passed it. And, if you are like me, you want to know what the purpose of the test was. What you were supposed to learn.

I was in more of a pensive mood as I wrote this post. I was on a plane, flying into the sunset. The seat back computer thingy told me that I was 36 thousand feet in the air, and sailing along at a good clip. I’ve always liked flying, it’s a chance to move slightly out of my world. Locating yourself to another place is an opportunity to move slightly to the left of yourself and see things slightly differently. At least that’s what I’m telling myself, as I fly 8 hours in slightly less than 24 hours, so that I can go to a six hour meeting. (And I suppose, if you are a conservative, flying and travelling could have you moving to the right of yourself, if that makes you happier!)

I went to a funeral on the day I wrote this post. For the Mother of a co-worker, she was 86. The pastor conducting the funeral emphasized that the way she was when she died was not how she always was. Indeed, this woman was in great pain in the last years of her life. But, the pastor reminded us in the service that the pain at the end of her life was one type of pain, and she had experienced all manner of hardship and sorrow in her life - there are many types of pain in the life of man. Perhaps, if I am to summarize, where I am now is not where I always have to be.

The readings at the funeral spoke of tests: the agony of Martha and Mary after the death of their brother. “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died”. Indeed, I understand this. I have wondered if our babies died when God was, in some metaphorical , or perhaps real way, not looking. Perhaps He took his eyes off me for just a second. Perhaps he was busy – there is war and strife and famine, and people starve to death almost hourly. Perhaps he was just too busy. Certainly in the midst of my faith I wonder how it can be that God could have taken Gabriel from his parents who loved him.

Martha tells Christ that she knows that Lazarus will rise again, in the last day. She knows that she will see Lazarus again at the ressurection. But whenever I read the story, I’m always reminded that in a very real sense, Martha is reminding her Lord that she hurts now, her brother is dead now, and the resurrection, well, it is literal and real, but it sure seems a long way off. And by the way, there’s a good road from Jerusalem, and we sent you word 3 days ago, and you took your sweet time, and do you mind explaining why that was? Cause if you had hurried, he would have only been sick, not dead. There is a real difference between book knowledge and a crisis of faith. In the reading I can see how she is struggling to reconcile the two, just like I have.

I have always believed the last great test of our life comes when we are amidst the dying. There are no new questions in that time, just the same old ones. “Are you there God? Really? Are you real? Is there more to life than this? What’s next Lord?” And, perhaps most importantly “Will you stay with me God?”

At the corner of Christianity is the iron belief that all is not as it should be. I have always been comfortable accepting that the world is not as it should be. Perhaps because of the neighbourhood I live in, I see prostitution, drugs, homelessness, addiction, mental health issues, the grinding down of the spirit that comes with constant poverty. I am aware of the broken bodies and the broken spirits that surround me. I believe that we are born broken. We are born into a world that at best imitates perfection. Not that there isn’t beauty and wonder in the world, but that it is tainted.

Unlike a normal test, knowing the questions doesn’t give me any answers. I want Gabriel’s life to have meaning. I want it to have counted for something. And I know that it did count for me. But I want an epiphany, to suddenly become like Ebaneezer Scrooge at the end of a Christmas Carol – I want to be a whole new, different, better person because of Gabriel. And I want to understand. I want writing in the sky, big banner letters. I want God to write me a neat and tidy explanation of what Gabriel’s death means. Of what happened. An essay if you will, with a thesis and research and proof. A voice from heaven with a final definitive answer – this experience, of infertility, pregnancy, Gabriel’s birth and death, it means this.

I hear of people who go through a test or a trial, and then some years or months, or in some cases days later say “oh, I get it, God was teaching me this, or God used me to do that. Mostly, I go “huh”. I see the hand of God, sometimes, but more often I generally don’t understand quite what the point was. I’m forever wondering – is there a lesson I’m not learning? Or to put it more colloquially, most often I find myself saying “What the hell was that about God?” And I’m learning that this is ok. That a lifetime of questions, of the same wonderings is ok. Christianity, the heart of my faith is not roses and butterflies, it is hard searching questions, with no promise of answers. One cannot know God and expect all the answers. That's not his way.

Like I spoke of on Tuesday, I understand longing and wailing and great pain now. Is that the lesson of Gabriel? I don’t know. I now this: that I have a life time to learn how I passed the test of Gabriel, and what my final mark is. I’m in no hurry. I think Mr. Spit and I are on a slightly different time line than Gabriel. We are here, and he is in Heaven, and in that last day we shall be together.

Weekend Are For Quotes

A banker is a person who lends you his

umbrella when the sun is shinning,

but wants it back the minute

it begins to rain.

Mark Twain

Give a Lady a Hand

Well, actually, give a gentleman a hand.

Mr. Spit is looking for ways to remember Gabriel. I have a lovely bracelet from these folks, but he's looking for something more, well manly.

Could you head over and make a suggestion?

thanks,

Mrs. Spit

PS - Yes the interview is today and yes, I'm a bit nervous about it.

My triumphant return

I have managed to escape the vacuum that is Toronto. (Toronto being the centre of the universe, after all). I had a very nice dinner at the Sheraton at the airport, and a wee pint of Keith's, so the flight home was pleasant.

Indeed, there were two wee ones just up from me. (About 18 months and shiny brand new) Both were delightfully well behaved, and there was not a peep out of them.

Going to bed now. . .

PS - thanks for waving back at me Loribeth. . . .

the toronto query

There is one plug in between the coffee maker and the computer. Which do I plug in? Could it be that blogging has superseded my need for caffeine?

Oh my, I just looked at the time - it's not quite 6 am. At least from where I'm from. My body wants those hours back. Give me the damn coffee maker.

::

Back when I worked for a certain blue computer company, I used to work crazy-stupid hours. I awoke the bill shoved under my hotel room door, and it all came back to me.

And miles to go before I sleep.
ugh.