Imagination Story

This is the time of the year when we start working on our "Imagination Project." At least that's the term that I use, since we are relegated to plotting our imaginary gardens while the remnants of grey-white snow still covers the buds-to-be. The planting season can't be far away now that garden tillers, lawn mowers and seed displays in the garden centers have replaced the snow blowers, shovels, sanding and salting mixtures. All this equipment is enough of a morale booster to inspire a forlorn gardening enthusiast to plot out a serious plan of action. Heaven knows I need all the help I can get.

Up until this point my growing pains have been limited to caring for the indoor plants that were assaulted by a mite attack, not once but twice. They are sneaky these mighty mites and their presence was discovered only after they wreaked havoc with my hibiscus plant. One minute the plant was lush with greenery and the next, there were three woody stems with a few pathetic leaves hanging on for their lives at the tips. A dose of insecticide soap helped somewhat and the problem was brought under control, but the plant hasn't really been the same since. It's as if it has been cowered into submission and afraid to really let loose with a dense growth of leaves. Poor thing!

My ficus - the grand old dame of the plant collection - is losing her leaves faster than new ones can replace them. This plant, saved from the garbage heap when someone discarded her fifteen years ago, might be the victim of old age. Of course, the fact that she is growing in a pot that is too small for this beauty might be a factor. She is getting some support from a broom handle which is as wide as it is tall, in addition to twist ties placed in strategic places borrowed from packages of plastic bags. Again, poor thing! I can't seem to summon up enough nerve to toss her on the compost heap yet, where she can die in dignity with others of her kind. Rather than taking the necessary steps to deal with the death problem indoors, I have turned my attention to the back garden. Even though the rose bushes are still partly-covered with snow, there are plans afoot to deal with an unproductive rose bush that produces leaves and little else. This bush, which was supposed to bring forth red roses according to the picture on the plastic casing when it was purchased, has let me down year after year. While the other bushes produce multi-colored, fist-sized blooms, the outsider rebel-roser refuses to flower. Maybe it feels intimidated by its blossoming neighbors or possibly it senses its impending doom by its owner. Heaven knows I have tried reasoning, feeding, pleading and threats in an attempt to get something back for my investment of time and money. It seems hell-bent on producing leaves, period. This summer I am seriously contemplating root canal work and removing the non-productive member of the rose collection. It knows - I'm sure it knows.

Whether or not to plant wild flowers on the shady side of the house is another thing I'm thinking about (what can I say -I have a lot of time on my hands!). The problem could lie in the type of seeds used since they are designed for sunny spots. My philosophy is: I bought a large canister of seeds and why waste them? Maybe I'll just re-sow the area once again with grass seed. We'll see, depending on the amount of seed left over in the canister. Right now I am going over all last years seeds acquired from neighbor's flowers, which are stored in envelopes. The problem is that I forgot to write the name of the species on the front and even then, don't remember what they look like. For example, written on one envelope is "Kathleen's white, airy flowers" which were acquired serendipitously during casual walks by her house, lots of walks by her house. She had so many of them anyway and wouldn't miss one or two plants, was my attitude. At the end of the growing season, my gracious neighbor ended up offering me a few roots even though the flowers had already taken root in my soil, hidden away from prying eyes. Guilt! Guilt! On another envelope are written the words, "Elry's plant seeds" donated during a picnic at his summer house. Problem is, I don't remember which seed goes with which flower. This could be explained as a result of Elry's homemade wine which really packed a punch. Yet another envelope indicates that the contents are "Jimmy's Big Yellow Flowers" which proliferate in his front garden. Were these "borrowed" during the cover of darkness or are they legitimate donations? Dare I grow them where they could be seen by the public? The one thing for sure is that I have ample time to agonize over these decisions.

Right now, there are plenty of garden centers to visit, seed packages to study and dreams of warm days to come.

Meanwhile, the prayer plant is praying for a miracle since its leaves are turning yellow. Hold on plant! Mama's coming!

(Eleanor Tylbor is a freelance humor writer/columnist and frustrated gardener who lives in Laval, Quebec. She would love hearing from other gardeners and commiserating with them about shared failures and is open to garden hints. E-mail: tylborj@cam.org.

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