gardening

The elephant in the garden center…

It is a common refrain.

Oh, I can’t garden. I kill everything I plant.

I tried to put in a garden, but I guess I am just just not cut out for it because everything I planted died.

As my life happily revolves around gardening, the topic ends up weaved in, in some way, to many conversations. And, as the saying goes: If I had a nickel for every time someone told me they lack the gardening gene, I would be able to buy myself a lovely Victorian greenhouse!

I am honestly sad when someone tells me they lack the green thumb needed to be a gardener. I often tell them that it takes time and practice, that we learn more from our failures than we do of our successes. One can’t simply put in a garden, kill something, then give up. We didn’t do that when we learned to ride a bike, right? We kept trying until we figured out how to balance on two wheels and pedal and turn corners and brake without flying over the handlebars. The same is true for gardening.

There are many pieces and parts to successful gardening – soil, weather, sunlight/shade, knowing what to plant when. As with balancing a bike, if one thing is off, it can affect the whole. It takes practice and research and – yes – sometimes killing a few plants to figure out how to garden successfully. The goal is to research and learn so we don’t have to kill quite so many plants as we grow as gardeners.

Today, though, I want to talk about the elephant in the room garden center.

This morning, like, um, too many mornings, I decided to stop by the local chain garden center that is conveniently located between our house and the gym. (It is my reward for getting up early on a Monday morning and hitting the gym.) And there it was. That elephant. Looking all cute and promising, lush and green. Just waiting to be purchased and taken home and tucked in to some new gardener’s garden.

I don’t blame the new gardener. How would they know that we can’t plant elephants in North Texas in mid-February? Why, after all, would a garden center be selling something that is still many weeks two months away from doing well in the garden?

Well, it’s an easy buck (five bucks, actually) for the garden center. And, sadly, many new gardeners fall for those elephants, enough that garden centers continue to sell them. It’s a vicious cycle. There is implied trust, that what is being sold is acceptable to be planted. But it leaves many wanna be gardeners thinking they can’t garden. Of course the elephant died. It is February. Elephants are a heat loving plant, they are very cold sensitive and we are still weeks away from our average last frost date. But the new gardener? They are still learning, practicing, researching, figuring out what to plant when. So they trust that the plants available today are suitable to be planted today.

Those are the elephants. We look the other way when we see them being sold before (or after) their time. It’s easier to blame the unknowing plant buyer than to blame the industry. And yet the industry continues to push out summer vegetables earlier and earlier, when they know the majority of those plants will likely freeze when planted this early.

First – I want to take a moment to discuss where plants may be purchased, as that it a critical part of gardening and understanding elephants, as it directly impacts what ends up for sale to the consumer/gardener.

1.) a Big Box hardware or home improvement store that has a garden center attached to it, where wholesale plant buying decisions are often made hundreds of miles away

2.) a chain garden center (ie: they are a dedicated garden center but they have many locations across a region)

3.) an independent garden center (ie: they are a dedicated garden center but only have one or two locations).

I personally prefer to purchase from number three, the independent garden center. I find that they are much more likely to sell plants that will do well in our area and are more likely to sell the correct plants for the season. They also tend to hire gardeners as employees. Because independent garden centers have a direct financial impact from every plant they sell – or don’t sell – they are much more likely to educate gardeners and have resources available, from “how to” classes to handouts and planting guides. I love supporting the many wonderful independent garden centers in North Texas, as I think the quality of their plants is well worth the drive. Prices at independent garden centers tend to be a bit higher than Big Box stores, but less than our chain garden centers. This now circles back to this morning and those elephants.

We have a chain garden center that is quite literally – In Our Back Yard. When we bought our house 30 years ago, the land behind our back fence was horse pastures. Then suburbia came in and McMansions sprouted up, along with a chain garden center, a Tex-Mex restaurant and a drive through coffee place. I have been known to walk to this garden center. It is way too convenient for those times when I just need a bag of potting soil or a plant pick me up. Or a reward for dragging myself to the gym on a Monday morning.

But. Those elephants!

Row after row of lovely vegetable starts! They did look appealing, fresh off the delivery truck. Lush green growth. Beautiful color photographs showing what harvests await.

But one of the first “rules” of gardening – one of the most important steps to a successful garden – is knowing what to plant when.

I garden just north of Dallas-Fort Worth, in USDA plant hardiness zone 8b. According to The Old Farmer’s Almanac, my average last freeze date of the winter is March 23rd. Our average first freeze of the fall/winter is November 9th, which gives me roughly 230 days without freezing temperatures. I say “roughly” because 1.) these are averages and 2.) other sources may give dates a week or so off.

What that information means, though, is that gardeners in North Texas may well expect a freeze in mid- to late March, which is still over a month away. Some of those vegetable starts available this morning at the chain garden center are perfectly fine to be planted now. But the majority of them left me sad, disheartened to know that new gardeners would likely be lured in to buying and planting them. A vegetable planting guide, a handy chart of what vegetable to plant when, is such a simple thing, one of the most practical and inexpensive tools every gardener should have. Vegetable planting guides should be readily available at all garden centers, either as a QR code to scan or as a handout.

I personally keep three vegetable planting guides from the three independent garden centers that I frequent. Yes, the information overlaps and having three may be overkill, but it also guarantees I can always find a copy when I need it because – yes – even long-time gardeners sometime need to doublecheck planting dates. Brassica (cauliflower, broccoli, etc), lettuce and Swiss chard can handle cooler temperatures. Those can be planted now. But hold off on those elephants – corn, beans, squash, cucumbers.

Perhaps the biggest elephant in the room garden center – corn. Corn! Now I grew up in Iowa (a far ways from North Texas) and we always said corn should be knee high by the fourth of July. I don’t actually know what it should be here, but I can assure you buying knee high corn in February won’t get you anywhere except out five bucks. Corn loves the heat of summer. Our soil temperatures and air temperatures are still too cool for corn, our days are still too short. We can still reasonably get a freeze for another five to six weeks. And yet, as I wandered the greenhouse this morning, I saw so many individuals stop and look at them. Perhaps they had the same thought I did, “In what universe is it okay to buy and plant corn in mid-February?!” Alas. I know that cycle – the garden center offers them because they sell – and new gardeners buy those heat loving plants way too early in the season and then we get that March freeze (because we always do) and they think the failure is on them, that they can’t garden, they lack the gardening gene, when in reality the garden center should not have sold heat loving plants in mid-February!

And, yes, I know. Experienced gardeners love to push the bounds. Many of us love to tempt Mother Nature and plant our tomatoes in early March, knowing full well that we may still have a late frost and we will be dashing about, covering our tomatoes. But new gardeners may well not know this. All they know is that they bought said plant, planted it and it died. Now they think they can’t garden. The garden center made their money, but they potentially lost a future wonderful gardener who just bought the wrong plant, planted it at the wrong time and gave up before they had the wisdom to know not to plant elephants in North Texas in mid-February!

gardening

November comes and November goes…

November comes and November goes and with it, 2024 is nearing its end.

One frenetic month to go before we usher in a new year, a new beginning, a time when hope springs eternal and the seed catalogs flood the mailbox and the promise of a new gardening year begins again.

November comes
      And November goes,
      With the last red berries
      And the first white snows.
With night coming early,
      And dawn coming late,
      And ice in the bucket
      And frost by the gate.
The fires burn
      And the kettles sing,
      And earth sinks to rest
      Until next spring.
~Elizabeth Coatsworth

Thankfully my North Texas garden hasn’t seen snow yet – or even frost by the gate – as Elizabeth Coatsworth’s poem flows. Our earth never truly sinks to rest as it does it does in colder gardening climates. Winter gardening in this region can be that Lagniappe – that extra little something – Mother Nature’s way of saying, “You made it through another Texas summer! Here is a little extra, your reward, a little something.” Some gardeners retreat inside, happy to curl up with a cup of hot tea and dream of the spring garden… Others are planting collard greens and kale and preparing new garden beds for the seasons ahead. Both are perfectly acceptable. That is the joy of gardening – You do you! Because… She who plants a garden plants happiness.

(Photo above: I am always on the hunt for preowned garden items, whether from estate sales, thrift stores or antique markets. This little plaque came from an estate sale, out of a dusty old greenhouse. Oh, how I wish I knew the gardener! But her spirit lives on now in my garden.)

You Do You may well be my garden motto, though I am quite unsure how to put that in the first person. My garden is unique. Not everyone’s cup of tea. But I am good with that. I garden for my self – both for my physical health and my mental health. This year, I opened my garden for three garden tours, two formal tours and one very informal tour. Each time I had the same apprehension. I know my garden can be… a bit much. But I love it that way. It is free spirited, much like myself. A bit wild around the edges.

Last year, I joined the local garden club, which is still in its very early years of existence. For background: We bought our home 29 years ago, knowing how I wanted to garden. For that reason, we sought out a property tucked away from street view and without an HOA. Our property – and my garden – are not the norm for this area and especially not for this suburban garden club. When I offered my garden as a stop along their progressive supper/garden tour, it was with a disclaimer: My garden was anything but a standard suburban garden! The garden club visited my garden in early May, the final stop of the evening and the ladies lingered over tea and homemade rosemary orange cake. The feedback was all lovely and I do hope that many were encouraged to think outside the box, to have some fun in their own gardens.

A few years after we bought our home, I attended a garden club’s plant sale in a nearby suburb. I loved the club and the gardeners so much that I decided to join, as our suburb was still small at the time and we didn’t yet have a club. This year marks my 25th year as a member of that garden club and the third time I have opened my gardens for a tour.

I have said before that gardeners are a fickle lot when it comes to the weather, so it goes without saying… Between the first garden tour in May and this second garden tour five weeks later, it rained….

And rained.

And rained.

We swung from historic drought to historic flooding rains in a matter of weeks. Our garage flooded for the first time ever. Two days before the June tour, I was up to my ankles in mud, digging a trench along the side of our property, trying to get the water to drain away from the house, in hopes that the main path to the back gardens would dry out enough to make it passable for garden visitors.

As more rain was falling and even more rain was forecast, I spent the day before the tour hauling in mulch and placing a new stepping stone path along the other – slightly higher – side of the house.

With even more rain falling, I decided on Plan C.

I posted a note on the front door: Please come through the house. Don’t worry about tracking in mud. Seriously. Do Not Worry! Mud Happens!

The rain that fell that June morning would be the last that my garden would see until late October. But that June day was glorious. The rain cleared off, the sun came out and I had 80 or so garden club members through my garden.

The third garden tour of the year was quite unexpected and very informal. A neighbor wanted to organize a block party over the Fourth of July weekend and asked if we would mind if it was held outside our home, our property being tucked away at the end of the subdivision and away from vehicular traffic. I had long assumed that most of our neighbors simply put up with me, the eccentric gardener at the end of the street, so I was unprepared for all the requests for garden tours. I didn’t have the chance to reign in the weeds or to tuck in some of the crazy…

(… because every free spirited garden needs a disco ball!)

But – from what I heard – the gardens lived up to everyone’s expectations of what the rest of my gardens would look like. From the driveway food forest to the (shh… back garden annex…), the neighbors loved what they saw. A little fun, a little wild, packed full of plants of every sort.

I don’t know quite how it happened, but then – in a blink of an eye – that early July day is now… almost December? Summer and autumn went by much too fast.

(Photo above: This morning’s harvest, what may be the last of the summer vegetables from 2024.)

I heard a bird sing
In the dark of December,
A magical thing,
And sweet to remember:
“We are nearer to spring
Than we were in September.”
~Oliver Herford

The first seed catalog arrived in the mail just a few days ago and I have yet to find time to sit down and dream and plot and plan, but I know cold wet days are ahead and seed catalogs always make one feel hopeful and cozy when most needed. The garden walk this morning was good for the soul, a sunny yet crisp cold day, this last day of November.

(Photo above: cypress vine growing over a pepper plant.)

By this time of year, the gardens are late season feral and overgrown, vines scampering and rambling, smothering everything in their path. It makes harvesting an adventure, a real life Jumanji meets Easter egg hunt. I have made a mental note to keep the vines in check next year, to not let them get out of control. But I know… I will see them in full bloom, hummingbirds and butterflies flitting about, and let them be. You do you. And this is me.

This morning, I harvested roselle hibiscus, which I will dehydrate to use this winter in teas and in dying papers and fabrics.

November is usually such a disagreeable month…as if the year had suddenly found out that she was growing old and could do nothing but weep and fret over it. This year is growing old gracefully…just like a stately old lady who knows she can be charming even with gray hair and wrinkles. We’ve had lovely days and delicious twilights. This last fortnight has been so peaceful…. ~ Lucy Maud Montgomery

The garden is growing old gracefully this year. We have had cold nights, but have yet to have a freeze. The roses (above) and salvias (below) are still blooming, as if they know December and colder days are coming. But, until then… I am out enjoying the garden, feral as it is.