Oh, the catalogues of winter! Aren't they magnificent? I've had such fun lately looking through them. And then a funny thing happened. I began to feel stressed out. I nonchalantly put a check mark or star next to the plants I like and may want to buy and by the end of each session with a catalogue, I realized - with some horror - that I'd checked a million things. OK to like them, I guess, but there's no way I'd buy them all. Or should.
And then panic settled in. What will my garden look like? Spring is coming. I'm not ready! But I need to exercise restraint, do some planning (that is such a drag!) and think before I leap. My technique has been a combination of buying from catalogues or websites and in person, from nurseries. Whatever the method, much of it is based on impulse, rather than careful thought.
A good friend who's an experienced gardener visited one day late last summer. She hadn't seen the garden for two years. "Hmmm," she said, without smiling. "Lotta stuff going on here." I was momentarily taken aback. Was she saying my garden had too much stuff in it? Too much junk?
She said nothing, just began cruising around, inspecting. I felt like I do at the doctor's, under that flimsy nightshirt as the exam begins ...
Then she asked what's this, what's what, and saying this is interesting, so is that ... but I began to look around with a more critical eye. Some parts of the garden have gotten mighty crowded, it's true. So I'm thinking that when everything comes up this spring, I need to take a look around with clear eyes and decide what should be thinned and what needs beefing up.
I've already started researching what to do with a border beside the path that gets unremitting sun all day long. Nothing does well in this spot, and since it's where everyone walks, there's no way to camouflage or fake it. Welcome to my garden, in other words. Pay no attention to the Dust Bowl to your left ...
Think I'll put some of the catalogues on a shelf. Breathe deeply. And count to 10. Only four months till spring.
