From the garden experience of Felder Rushing

It hit me the other day and, going in to wash up, found a sprig of rosemary soaking in a water glass on the kitchen sink. I had slipped it into my shirt pocket a few evenings earlier during a “date” with daughter Zoe at an upscale restaurant, promising to root it for her when we got home. Somebody help me!

Have you ever bought plants you didn’t need, or really even want, but just couldn’t resist? I have set pots and even entire flats of flowers on the driveway, and watered them for weeks and months until they eventually just melted away, because there simply was no place to plant them.

I suppose outsiders could see our passion as tame when compared superficially with, say, indoor soccer (“dry hockey”) or Nascar racing. But I don’t have to explain to real gardeners how fast a heart rate can get from a few pulls on the starter rope on a recalcitrant gas engine, or how sweat drips from our eyebrows as we toss bulbs and mulch into freshly-prepared soil, or how itchy fire ant stings (and even poison ivy) can be, between toes and fingers. Or how our hearts sing when we discover a delicate detail, flavor, fragrance, or other bonus in a newfound plant.

And gardening is addictive. We could even compose a Gardeners Anonymous Twelve Step Program. I can hear it now: “Hi, my name is Felder, and I am a gardener...” (In unison, the other gardeners in the group reply “Welcome, Felder, we are glad you are here. Come back often.”)

“I gardened just this morning. (“Amen.”) Pulled a few weeds on the way down to pick up the morning paper, and before I knew it, found myself dividing daylilies and repainting a fencepost. Coming to this GA meeting, I found a mail order catalog under my car seat, and people behind me at the stoplight had to honk to get my attention back on the road.”

“I need help with my gardening. I can’t stop on my own. And I am sorry for my family that, even though I don’t own a bass boat or belong to a golf club, I did spend my last paycheck on shrubbery, a new greenhouse door, and a big bucket of Miracle Grow...”

Sound close to home? Here’s a simple test to see if you are a garden nerd:
- You grow ten or more different kinds of the same plant (rose, daylily, daffodil, iris, African violet, camellia, tomato, whatever), and know their names (extra points if they’re labeled).
- You subscribe to three or more garden magazines, and keep a small shovel in your car trunk. Turn your compost weekly. Buy bird seed by the fifty pound sack. Own a pair of Felco pruning shears (bonus points for the clip-on leather scabbard).
- Vegetables are growing in your flower beds. You mow around a weed because it has pretty flowers, or to save a place to hide Easter eggs later.
- Have you ever willingly taken a tour of a garden by flashlight? Double bonus points for luring guests outside after dark (“Hey, wanna see something really neat?”). Do we need to search your purse or camera case for purloined seeds, after a visit to a botanical garden?
-Extra points if your cuticles are dirty right now. And last, but not least, triple points of you would appreciate a special someone sending you a load of manure for an anniversary...

I’m not suggesting we gardeners should quit - though we all claim we can, any time. But maybe our motto should be Easy Grow It, or simply One Flower at A Time!