Spring - the garden beds are gone but the memory lingers on

Today I bought a geranium plant. In the scheme of things and being that this is Spring, it's not an unusual thing to do. Condo living is great but it's missing one vital component. I'm missing my garden.

While shopping at the supermarket, the front of the store was devoted to wooden display racks filled to capacity with annuals and hanging plants. Since it was an unusually warm sunny day, people were feeling the need to get down and dirty and feel the earth beneath their fingers. I know exactly how they feel.  Somehow, placing the plant on my still empty balcony gave me a feeling of kinship with gardeners and brought back memories of my garden.

Let me state for the record that my garden was not a display out of House and Gardens. Far from it. In fact there were more deaths than there were survivors. The wine-colored iris's growing in a bed on the side of the house could always be counted in the survivor column. They were my pride and joy because they required little care. Neighbors and people passing by frequently asked the secret in acquiring the magnificent display. Nothing - absolutely nothing other than separating the roots periodically. Mother Nature did the rest.

It's those rose bushes that tug at my heart. At this time of the year, I would be pondering whether the two remaining hybrid teas made it through the winter and/or whether they should be pulled. They were frequently in the in-between stage making a decision on their viability difficult. I've always been of the belief that roses in particular make slaves of their human caretakers having to primp, preen and fuss over them and in the end, they thank us by croaking. It was always touch and go and in a good year they would give me three roses each. In a bad year, they were afflicted black mold on their leaves but I loved them dearly. They are frequently in my thoughts.

I miss digging my fingers in the earth and feeling the soil sift through my fingers while preparing a home for new flowers and annuals. Our front lawn was composed primarily of dandelion leaves, which gave it a green shade and in dandelion season, the lawn was a mass of yellow flowers. It was an un-winable war trying to erradicate them and in the end, we conceded victory. In retrospect, perhaps we should have tried making dandelion wine or dandelion salad, since dandelion leaves sell at the supermarket. Had they asked us, we would have gladly donated ours for free.

It's been five years since we sold our house but the pull of the garden still seduces my senses. It's obvious to onlookers that we were gardeners since we embelish our balcony with hanging plants in addition to filling planters that we had brought with us, with annuals. There is no way I could part with my "pussycat" planter with the smiling black cat peeking out from behind trailing flowers. Neither could I leave the hand-made wooden planter behind given to me by my next door neighbor. In the end, you takes your planting as you get it. Meanwhile, there's always the geranium.

"In joy or sadness, flowers are our constant friends."

- Kozuko Okakura

The garden has gone to bed

Normally at this time of the year I would be busily occupied with preparing my garden for its winter siesta. This would include my usual season angst of having to cut back all the remaining blooms, even though they still provide a splash of color to the otherwise brown and shrivelled up annuals that gave up the fight. Planting fall bulbs...applying fall fertilizer... The usual.

Since one year ago, the fall to-do list is no longer applicable since we are now enjoying the benefits of condo living. No longer is the responsibility of ensuring the perennials survival over the winter is in my hands. The new owner can now deal with the guilt that arrives in Spring when the thaw reveals those that didn't make it through the winter. It's somebody else's responsbility now.

As an avid but frustrated gardener, my efforts now focus on patio gardening...or patio planting. In the Spring I joined the masses hitting the gardening centres to purchase flowers and plants but my focus was on which species would survive living in urns. We bought four hanging planters containing flowering plants that were already in the midst of a blooming boom. Three survived but there was one failure, which was due to the placement of the plant directly above the barbeque. Surprisingly, the plant didn't die, which would have been easier to accept along with the accompanying guilt, but instead kept growing leaves and leaves and... It's as if it was saying: 'please don't take me down! See? I can still give you pretty leaves!' The guilt just never ends!

The best results came from our urns that absolutely thrived due to a perfect balance of light and sunlight thanks to the overhang from the balcony above. Their success is due to the purchase of the special mix of earth created specifically for urns and boxes. Never realized how important a role that earth can make in flower beds and if only I had paid more attention to this aspect in my garden... However, life is full of could-have's, would have's and should-have's for gardeners. Right?

We also brought along our wood flower boxes that played host to a cornucopia of lush blooms, which over-flowed the sides and stuck out of the balcony rails. Anybody walking by and looking up at them would have gasped... Okay maybe not gasped but would have been very impressed with the display.

Unfortunately, it's that time to say goodbye since the stalks are now thin and "leggy" and suffering from a seasonal fungus that can only be cured by a return to the earth from which they came. There is no guilt since I know everything was done to ensure their longevity for the summer. Kind of a reciprocal relationship. I'm already planning for next year. Maybe some tomatoes might be a challenge... Radishes...and herbs. Condo gardening is flower raising without the guilt. At least so far but then we're still in the early stages. There's always next year.