This isn’t the post I had planned to write. That original post has to wait for another day because of Hurricane Dorian — and before I get into the meat of this post, please, understand that I am in no way making light of the situation in the Bahamas. That is tragic. That is devastating — and I’m not even sure those words are strong enough to fully capture what the people there have experienced and are continuing to face each day.
A long time ago— May, actually — in a galaxy far, far away— just outside of the front door — an alien-looking seed mustache from space appeared on the tip of a desert rose branch. That was the general gist of an earlier post — but after a couple of months, my sci-fi fantasy that is South Florida gardening has become, “Captain, the pod doors have opened.”
The only way I can really explain summer in Florida is that it’s a lot like winter up north. There, the cold weather means the garden slows down. Here, the hot weather means I slow down. There are some days, many days when it’s just too hot to move.
When it comes to fabulous flower faces, orchids are always the scene stealers. They’re the ones that get passersby to stop and stare. They’re the ones that get the awards and command top dollar at flower sales.
Not too long ago, Joe and I stopped into a local antique store. It was a Sunday and the store was supposed to be closed, but the owner had some paperwork to do. When she saw us peering in the window, she invited us in.
Now that we’ve just turned back our clocks, it seems like a perfect reason to turn back time on my garden — because if I could, the bed pictured above would have looked like this years ago.
For decades, Joe and I — first, as tourists; now, as residents — have looked around South Florida and said, “Florida, my Eden.” We’ve said it as we’ve marveled at the lush tree canopy of botanical gardens, as we’ve gazed at tables of flowers and fields of shrubs and trees in local nurseries, as we’ve walked about and worked in our own garden, and as I took photos for this post.
When Santiago Arroyo (left) met Jason Long (right), it was the start of a bountiful friendship. When the two men worked side-by-side in a Florida-farmer apprenticeship program, they not only cultivated a friendship but they shared a common vision of how farming could change the way people live, eat, and think about food.
The other day, Joe and I were in the front yard. He had clippers and I had a rake and a bucket — we had assumed our gardening roles. Although the plants and place were different, the scene was remarkably similar to one that inspired one of my favorite posts from a few years ago. In honor of gardening, roles, Labor Day, and weekend chores, I thought I’d share that post again and throw in some pictures from the present as proof that the more things change, the more they stay the same.
As some of you know, I’ve spent a little more than two years working as a water boy in the garden center of a local box store. It was a bucket list kind of a job, something to do part time, something to fill up a few hours of the day.
I really just wanted to water plants.
Nitty Gritty Dirt Man 