I’ve heard rumors that even the best gardeners kill plants. I’ve also heard that the truly enlightened don’t waste time on regret – move on, get another plant, put it in another place, see what happens.
I admire this. I picture experienced gardeners as being kind of like spies or tough detectives in novels or on television. Confident, ready for anything, letting bygones be bygones. (At least, that's how I like my detectives. None of this pesky humanity business for me. There's no room for doubt in a detective!)
I have not yet reached that enlightened state. I still go through lots of guilt when one of my plants dies because of me. I have a list in my head. Recently, there is my viburnum. Or my echinacea that I forgot to water one weekend, and that turned into a crispy array of tiny leaves. It looked like what herbs are supposed to look like when you hang them upside down in a cool dry place for three months.
As a sort of penance, I tend to water things that I'm convinced are dead. I think of it as buying my way into the good graces of the departed spirit of my plant. (Too much anthropomorphizing can do that to a girl.)
But sometimes I've called the death too soon, and the watering pays off. My viburnum? Sprouting new leaves.
And the echinacea? Tiny new growth as well!
My garden is a better place.
-Chani West-Foyle, Marketing Associate