Filed by Steve Barrett
There’s magic in a garden.
I’m a mediocre gardener at best, but the wonder of God’s Earth is that he can turn the efforts of even the fair to middling among us into something of joyful beauty.
Four years ago, I didn’t know a thing about plants. With a bit of help from a friend, though, I learned basics such as how to dig a decent hole for a shrub, spread out the root ball, lay down adequate mulch, etc.
And blamed if even my modest little third of an acre isn’t exploding with color at the moment.
Sporting their spring finery are purple-flowered clematis vines on my fence and off my front porch; grape vines on another section of fence; pots full of caladium, marigolds, dianthus and such; a lone purple rhododendron; a vine-like shrub with purple flowers that I got at Reflection Riding’s native plant sale; two fast-leafing beautyberry shrubs, also from Reflection Riding; a hearty hibiscus that promises buckets of dinnerplate-size, deep-red flowers; a regal, 20-foot tulip poplar that was 8 inches tall three years ago when I got it at a free tree giveaway at Hamilton Place; masses of lilies; a plump fern that I store in the garage every winter but that never fails to recreate itself once it gets back outdoors; some newly planted rose-of-Sharon shrubs that are greening up enthusiastically; and, oh, piles of things whose names I can’t even remember.
At this time of the year, for me at least, there’s no such thing as “working” in the yard.
E-mail Steve Barrett at email@example.com