by Madeleine KandoI must confess that I am not a very good gardener. I am a novice gardener, a pretend gardener. Only recently did I come to the shocking realization that 90% of what surrounds me has been invisible to me for most of my life. All that abundance of flowers, trees, bushes.. I just took that for granted, never thinking much about it. Yes, it’s pretty. So what?
I was going my merry way like a commuter on the subway, never looking at the other passengers. They were just there. I was always too immersed in my own little, boring world. Until one day I realized that behind every little flower bed in someone’s yard, every little bush or plant, there was a pair of invisible hands that had taken the time to care for them. To water them, trim them, mulch them..
Then, I knew that my days of blindness were at an end. There was no going back.
On a sunny spring day, I took my very first baby steps into a plant nursery. I tried to look self-confident like the other shoppers. I sneaked sideways glances at these other ladies (most of them were ladies) with their pull carts full of plants. ‘How do they know what to spend their money on?’ I thought. ‘Out of the hundreds and hundreds of varieties, why choose those?’ I walked through the isles completely at a loss on what to buy. So I just followed one of the other shoppers and picked up whatever she was buying. (Most of it went back when I realized I was going to spend 300 dollars on plants that I had no clue what to do with).
I noticed a nice sturdy tomatoe plant that looked like it could withstand some mistreatment. Months later it grew into an enormous monster four feet tall. I had neglected to look at the tag which read: ‘Great White’. (No, it wasn’t a shark plant, it just grew huge white tomatoes the size of socker balls). I eventually had to build an entire scaffolding arrangement so it wouldn’t topple over.
My numerous mishaps into the world of gardening would take up many many pages. But I love plants, I love to watch them grow. I am not so sure if plants like me all that much, though. I am just not a natural. I remind myself of the many aspiring ballet students that have come through my studio doors over the years. Most of them just aren’t meant to become ballet dancers. The will is there, but the talent isn’t. That’s me with plants, you see.
But I consider gardening to be one of the more creative human activities. Just like cooking. It really is creating something out of nothing. For me it has to do with hope. Hoping that something will happen. It speaks to a childish desire in me to want to do magic. Every morning, at the break of dawn, I go out in my slippers and scrutinize my little patches of freshly seeded soil. Hoping for the slightest sign of life to emerge. And when I see a little baby nasturtium push it’s tiny head up to the sky, when a forgotten patch of morning glories comes back to life without the slightest encouragement, or when the trumpet flowers are surrounded with hummingbirds.. how can I not believe in magic? leave comment here