The Constant (GER) Gardner

My African Mallow Shrub (Tara's Pink) is gonna make it. Knowing this makes me profoundly happy. I had some scary moments there for a while - emergency runs to Armstrong Garden Shop for some expert garden advice - STAT!

"she needs more water, it's obvious she's not getting enough water."

"She needs a bigger pot, isn't it obvious?"
"She needs a deeper pot, isn't it obvious?"
"She's fine where she is, just water her, isn't it obvious?"

"Maybe it's obvious to you," I want to scream. With all these different opinions how can it be obvious to me - I'm just a pre-novice gardener, for crying out loud.

The worst part was being reduced to having to talk about my watering habits...to strangers (this part isn't entirely true - I had run to the real experts at the Armstrong Garden Center, begging them for help with my Tara's Pink, that I almost became a Garden Emergency Room fixture - or, as I started calling it, the GER). The shame of it all. I mean, who doesn't know how to water a plant - you put water in it, done deal, no?

"Okay, okay, stop. You proved your point. I don't know what I'm doing," I wanted to scream.

The first step -- admit you need help.

On my last visit to the GER, I simply said "just tell me what to do, and I'll do it" I walked out of there forty-nine dollars lighter. But this time was different. I felt more sure of myself. I knew that this time my African Mallow Shrub was gonna fare better.

And she is. It took her roots a couple of weeks to adjust to the space in the deeper pot. Today, she's blooming like crazy -- her little gift to me for believing in her, for keeping her alive, for massaging her little shrub ego and convincing her that life is worth living - even if in this life you're a shrub.

And she's a beauty.

The back yard is stunning with her in it -- the butterflies and bees she brings to the garden (dreary plastic tubs be damned, I'm calling it a garden now) are richer for it. Tolerating exposing my initial ineptitude was worth all this.

I enjoy taking my breaks outside, staring at her, clipping away dead buds and leaves. Something about that little plant helps me release tension and take comfort in her colors and simple, delicate beauty - convincing me that it's all good, it'll all be okay.

Life is good when you take small action, very little in retrospect, and the compensation is simply - outta this world. And the folks at Armstrong's ...they're my heros.

Bees, butterflies and parasitic wasps

I've been spending time in my 'garden.' It's not quite a garden yet, but it's on its way. My plants are still in the dreary plastic containers they came home from the nursery in. On the ever growing 'to do' list is buying them their first 'home' - a pot to play up their best feature. But as is my habit, before I put anything up permanently, I'm letting them tell me where they want to be, moving them around, observing how the sun plays on them, making note of where they might like it best, where they might be happiest -- then they'll get their pot.

There's something so pleasing about all this, about being part of something. Right now, that something is this world establishing itself outside my back door - despite the funky-generic-gray-black-straight- from-the-store containers.

One day, when I was about eight years old, I decided I wanted to sit under a tree and nap. Being the eldest daughter in a family of 11 kids, mostly males, I had a lot of chores and things to do; napping outside was not one of them. The thought of sleeping under a tree was too seductive - I succumbed. I climbed out the back bedroom window in search of the perfect tree. I found it, covering a soft patch of grass and white blossoms - the sort that grow prolifically in public parks and tenements - resembling a soft thistle. My never had to punish me for escaping my responsibilities, because as I lowered myself onto that perfect spot to rest my weary, wandering 8 year old bones, I put my hand right on top of a feeding bee. Yeah -I got it good. Never mind the pain. The worse part of that debacle was that I couldn't scream. I couldn't cry for help, or just cry - I couldn't call out for my mom to make it feel all better - I wasn't supposed to be outside.

I quickly looked around (you know, in that embarrassed, indignant way when you've tripped and nearly kissed concrete) to make sure no saw. But looked around too because I was scared. Scared in a tough neighborhood, there's always a mother on the look-out for something, or someone, out of place. And news traveled fast. I was afraid someone had seen my drama taking place and would snitch me out. I didn't need injury on top of injury.

My instinct was to put mud on the sting - which I did. Man it hurt. I watched the guilty bee for a while - I didn't kill it. I wasn't angry with it. I felt sorry for it because other kids had told me that if a bee loses its stinger, it instantly dies. I had just messed up this bees day in a big way. I still don't know if it's true, but on that day, I felt horrible for ruining the bees day. I watched it for a while, it wasn't dying, then took my muddied left hand back home. I quietly climbed back in the window. I never told my mom - and the stinger stayed in my hand for a long time. Don't ask me how, if I did at all, I explained the mud on my hand.

So, my attempt to commune with nature got off to a rough start. After that episode, the only thought I ever gave to bees and wasps after that, or anything with a stinger, was to note their location in relation to mine. But I've looked at them differently since learning about the peril, and possible decimation, their existence faces. I've never been afraid of bees - I just learned, in an instant, to respect them. Leave them alone and they wont' bother you, was the wisdom. But I can't do that anymore. Forty-eight years later, I can't leave them alone

With the benefit of working from home now, watching what is going on in my almost garden, I'm learning about the symbiotic relationship of flowers and insects and I'm becoming entirely fascinated by it - and I see myself as an important part of this. Ultimately, we all depend on the environment we create for each other. And these little guys work so hard. They depend on what I can create in the backyard for them - and we depend on them. I read an article that encourages home gardeners (oh, my god, I just called myself a gardener) to grow plants with blooms that are powerful attractors of bees, to encourage wild bees in order to promote their diversity and encourage healthy hives. I'm, not entirely surprised because when I have a task at hand, I get to it. Still, I'm somewhat surprised at how seriously I'm taking this - just ask my check book. Maybe I think too much of myself - but, man, I've got a job to do!

So, I've spent a bit over a week trying to keep a Mallow shrub alive - Tara's Pink - because the bees love it (so do hummingbirds). It meant more to me to keep this plant alive than keeping any other plant alive ever has. After two emergency runs to the nursery ER, I found out I was under-watering and needed to move her into a larger container (note to self - the depth and material of the pot really do matter). The mallow, Tara's Pink, is now healthy, blooming like crazy! And I'm ecstatic. Her delicate, dainty pink blossom is so beautiful against the green lobes, the sharp business-end of the shrub - the leaves.

I'm learning that 'drought tolerant' doesn't mean you don't have to water. Learning how to care for, how to water plants, is akin to learning what an honest to god 'serving' of ice cream is - it's all about balance.

It's a wonderful show and it's all free. I love this - I create a place for them, they make me happy. This is the stuff relationships are made of.

I love taking a break from work and just watching her - my mallow shrub -watching life going on, listening to the movement of my plants. Ecstatic, too, about how many bees, and wasps and 'sitter flies' (who'd have thunk I'd want these guys around), come and hang out -oh, and the humming birds and butterflies - they visit too, hanging out by the Spanish Lavender and the Salvia - a beautiful surprise in the garden - loved by the bees almost as much as they love Tara's Pink.

Now, if those pigeons would just go away and let the other birds come back and enjoy the seed, I'd be a happy camper.

Reality Checks

I'd decided I was going to busy myself with keeping note of all that matters. Then the other day I get the news that a friend is suffering from a possibly life threatening illness. I'm shaken. I hurt for him. I'm hoping for the best for him. He's in process of being diagnosed, no doubt involves endless prodding and poking and testing - to date he has no real answers. That's got to be the scariest part. The body glitching - and no answer as to why.

Dealing with an illness and having no real answers has got to be one of the more frustrating things in life. Too much space for the mind to wander. This friend is a vital, beautiful, sweet husband and father. Why? Why do these things happen - I can't help but ask myself. I liked him from the moment I met him, full of light. Damn it, why him? I'm angry and scared at the same time - he's younger than me. It's selfish, no doubt, to think about myself after hearing about his health predicament; when I heard of his news, I stopped to take stock of me. Is that horrible? Always the question, Why? Why him.

I'm going out for a walk - using the gift of breath and mobility that I take too much for granted. Getting this news about my friend breaks my heart ...he's so vital and so young. I'm forced to look at what really matters. In the scope of it all, wellness, love and care, of self and others, is all that matters. Being able to breathe of my own free will, being able to feel my legs, being able to use my legs, being able to get up ...being able to go outside and feed the birds. Being able to swallow and not be afraid. The body is a magnificent thing, but can be a monster when it has glitches. I take mine too often for granted.

I have good friends that I take for granted - why they haven't abandoned me makes me love them all the more (okay, so it's only five friends, still, they're amazing). I have a family I take for granted and don't spend enough time with. I spend far too much time giving myself to work and this computer. I need to give more time to the things that really matter. There. I didn't need a sheet and half for that.


I'm one to light candles. I will be lighting candles for my friend - my wish and good energy sent his way - for his health, knowing and strength to deal with what he is going through.