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 seed but hope springs eternal

Not too long ago, I used to garden. Ask any gardener who will confirm, there's nothing like getting down and dirty working the soil with your hands. It's probably a flash-back to the time as children when we spent our summer days revelling in the dirt and sandbox. As mentioned, gardening is now an activity discussed in the past tense.

It's been three years since we sold our house and went condo and I'm still afflicted with pangs of abandonment. Not that the garden was a showplace out of House and Garden or anything but it was mine and we had an understanding: I would plant stuff and it would grow, maybe. It took me years to cultivate the three rose bushes in the back yard and when they finally produced blooms, I felt like a new mother revelling in the delight of her new offspring. My favorite was the tangerine florabunda that never failed to produce at least one flowering, while the pink hybid tea gave me a few token buds in a good year. We had a combative relationship to say or write the least. As you can tell - I'm feeling sentimental and missing them all.

Having moved into the same neighborhood, I frequently make a point of passing by the house and glance out of the car window at the new plant additions or demises. Although the house is no longer ours, I feel a sense of responsibility as to their welfare. In retrospect, it would have been better to keep them in memory. In order to cut back on the cost of annuals, perennials were planted over time in the hope they would fill in the spaces. The rock garden was now covered entirely with wood chips with no sign of my plethora of growing plants, while the rock garden shrubs were transformed into small trees. It's their house now I tell myself wondering if my beloved roses are still in the land of the living.

These days my horticultural endeavors are relegated to balcony gardening having brought along my containers and flower boxes, which are filled to capacity with annuals in the summer. It's not the same but I'm still occupied with dead-heading the flowers and watering non-stop since the earth in containers require freqent watering. Two grecian urns were also added that are also filled with an assortment of flowers. Our condo is located near the river where our municipality focuses on planting natural species that are common to this type of area, are visually attractive, yet retain the soil.

It's winter and I'm planning for summer cultivation, perhaps adding some mini tomatoes. Maybe I'll go all out and try a small rose bush, knowing from personal experience that roses make slaves of their cultivators. I'm used to it! When it's all said and done, a gardener is always a gardener, even on a balcony.