Bonnie Tharp Books
I’ve never been much of a gardener for various reasons, but every spring I’m inspired by the sun, the new plants popping through the soil, the trees and flowers in bloom and I think – I want to make pretty things grow, feel the sun on my back and the dirt between my fingers.
I’ve had some success with Hosta, Tulips (and failures), Live Forever, Pampus Grass, Purselane, Mums and weeds, of course. I have several smallish patches to work with now and cutting down the dead stems and the oak leaves that bury the baby plants takes a lot of time. So, I’ve been going out on my lunch hour and raking a little here, snipping a little there and slowly I am making progress.
Some of the new plants are just that: “new” and therefore a surprise to me. A bit of Crocus just popped and I’m thrilled. It appears I’ll have Jonquils soon. Oh, and the weeds – they’ve already begun digging their ugly little tap roots down into the soil. The little buggars.
When my son was little he used to bring me the Dandelions and I’d dutifully put them into water on the windowsill. Same thing occurred with my grandson. Now I try to pluck those yellow blooms before they go to seed.
I am noticing that gardening is like anything else in life and especially creative ventures. Gardening requires time, attention, nourishment and weeding; and those same rules apply to writing, painting, singing, relationships…basically EVERYTHING of worth. Is it hard? Sometimes. Is it fun? Sometimes. It is usually worth what you put into it. So, I can’t complain if my flowers die because I didn’t water them. I can, but it’s my own silly fault.