That headline sums up what I felt when I spotted this orchid in a south Florida box store (rhymes with Gnome Repo). I know that an eventual move to Fort Lauderdale would require some adjustments and adaptations and learning, but nothing quite prepared me for orchid fever. From their smiling faces to their vibrant colors, from their graceful bounce to the way their blooms line up along the stem — I find myself completely entranced.
We should have known that when we signed the papers for the house, that cluster of thunderstorms would have grown into a monster.
For twenty years now, I’ve been making a list. One month before Hurricane Andrew slammed into South Florida, Joe and I purchased our retirement home – and ever since, I have worked on my list, editing it, adding to it, rethinking it.
The list has to do with landscaping our retirement yard, which is pretty much a blank slate. Over the years, we’ve planted palm trees – thereby giving us the basic garden structure. But how do I fill in all of the open areas? How do I adapt my very basic Long Island gardening knowledge to a subtropical zone?
As I sat in my office the other day, I glanced at the terracotta pot, the one that stays outside all summer and that I bring to work each September, and saw the first fuzzy leaves of Gloxinia, a plant that has called this pot home for several years.
It’s a funny thing, this Gloxinia. At the end of the growing season, after all of the leaves and stems have withered away, I put it in an out of the way place. When I remember, I give it some water – and then, thanks to its inner timepiece, it begins to emerge from its winter dormancy – and I am always in awe. While I go about my life and career, this plant is doing its own thing – dormant and alive, right under my nose, and when I least expect it, Gloxinia reminds me that it’s still here.
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Now that we’ve made the first round of seed introductions, it’s now time to continue down the receiving line. As mentioned in the previous post, I chose many red flowers — but I also included some experiments, seeds that could prove challenging.
First up, an experiment. I always try to include Coleus in the garden. The variety of colors and leaf textures are amazing — and they’re super easy to root if you’d like to save your favorites as houseplants. Simply snip off a stem, place in water, and roots appear. (By the way, that’s also an economical way to keep a favorite Coleus around for the winter months. As the weather warms, take some clippings from that house plant and have roots ready for the outdoor growing season.)
This plaque, a gift from my friend Maria, hangs in the potting shed.
Simply put, I’m a sucker for seeds. I can’t really say if it’s magical or spiritual, but I am amazed at what is locked inside each oddly shaped, variously sized seed. Just provide the right environment, and it’s as if the Big Bang is put into motion. Roots, stems, leaves, blooms, seed — it’s an ongoing cycle that is so simple (and yet so complicated) that it helps keep me grounded in this hectic world. It’s one thing to stop and smell the roses, but it’s another thing to stop and plant a seed and wait and then smell.
My Park Seed and Select Seeds order has arrived, and very soon, I will begin my own cycle of planting and watering and thinning. I admit, I went a little heavy on red — but I do love red in the garden. It’s hot and vibrant and passionate — and it comes in so many shades, from bright to brick to bold.
And now, without any further delay, I would like to roll out my red carpet.
Like a garden, a blog needs its own share of TLC. There’s watering (to nurture it along), weeding (to keep out the spam), some deadheading (to keep it fresh), and a fair amount of manure (to encourage growth). The real reward comes when blooms appear – as flowers, vegetables, or readers. This week, Nitty Gritty Dirt Man has seen a bountiful harvest.
My usual routine in the garden is to take a walk, check on what’s growing, what needs trimming, what needs weeding – that sort of thing. I keep a similar routine for the blog, where I try to post at least two times a week, usually on Sundays and Wednesdays. The structure helps keep me focused and organized.
I also check on the stats that WordPress tracks – mostly out of curiosity to gauge what readers seem to like and when their interest peaks and fades.
That was the case on Monday morning when I checked the stats from Sunday’s Super Bowl post. There were maybe 50 hits on Sunday night and one on Monday morning. That same afternoon, I checked in again, but the visitors’ number had surged to well over 200. Surely, I thought, there had to be a problem. I had never, ever had that many hits. Was there a glitch? A prank? A virus?
It’s game day — at last. If you live in the New York Metro area — as I do — or in New England or Indianapolis, for that matter, Super Bowl madness has reached the saturation point. Every second of local news coverage is devoted to the teams, the fans, the food — even my local supermarket broke a record for the number of heroes that were ordered for Super Bowl parties.
Don’t get me wrong — I am pulling for the home team. And I am excited to see the half-time show with Madonna. Yes, I know she made that remark about loathing hydrangeas, but I’m curious to see what the old material girl (yes, I went there) has in her bag of tricks.
It’s just that gardeners need their Super day, their media coverage, their competition for the most clever gardening commercials. I doubt any of that will be happening soon, so I have decided to take matters into my own hands.
Prior to starting this blog, I did very little garden-related reading. In fact, most of the garden reading I had done was the technical kind, usually to research a plant or a seed. It never crossed my mind to want to read a gardening book for pleasure – and now I find myself craving garden books and garden blogs. Recently, I read two remarkable books at the same time, and I am enchanted.
From the moment I received One Writer’s Garden, by Susan Haltom and Jane Roy Brown, from my friend Catherine, I knew it would be a difficult book to categorize. It’s definitely a gardening book, but it’s a biography and a history book, as well – all woven together with strands of roses and irises and camellias.
The garden, located in Jackson, Mississippi, was designed and planted by Chestina Welty, an amazing woman who passed her love of gardening on to her daughter, the Pulitzer Prize-winning Eudora Welty. In beautifully written narrative, the reader is transported to a time that now seems almost other-worldly.
Following a recent post in which I compared Mother Nature to Scarlett O’Hara, Janet of Planticru Notes commented on my ability to weave films into a gardening blog. That small sentence was enough of a seed to get me thinking about gardening movies that I enjoy, especially now that Mother Nature has given the northeast a cold shoulder.
Movies, like gardening, have always provided an escape for me. No matter the emotion of the moment, each activity gives me a chance to think and breathe and laugh and cry and absorb. Sometimes I need a Zinnia, sometimes I need a period piece, like Dangerous Liaisons. Certain films, like certain plants, are part of my very being. The garden will always have Dahlias, and moments in life will trigger a scene from What’s Up, Doc, which I will then recite in my head.
At the same time, while each of these passions can be solitary in nature, they can also be quite communal. Put a group of moviegoers in a room and a group of gardeners in another room – and there are endless conversations and accolades and critiques and comparisons. Watching in the dark and growing in the sun — both bring us together.
Here, in no particular order, are some garden-related films. Grab a pillow, a blanket, and a bowl of popcorn — our show is about to begin.
I am a seedaholic – and this time of year is especially rough for me and others like me. The seed catalogs have arrived, with all of their colorful glossy photos designed to tempt the gardener with promises of summer bouquets and homegrown vegetables – all of the scents and textures of life itself.
Each time I visit the mailbox and find a new arrival, I wonder what the neighbors think. A wave of thrills and excitement passes through me. I clutch the catalog to my chest as if it was the latest issue of Tiger Beat and I’m a giddy 11-year-old school girl. And, I swear, I feel like skipping.
Nitty Gritty Dirt Man 