I’ve always been drawn to gardening, but I never had my own plots of dirt. I was always tending vegetable and flower patches for others—I rototilled a boyfriend’s tomato and squash garden and would till with a shovel my brother’s backyard of his rental in order to grow flowers or piss off my dad when aerating the soil around his tomatoes. When I showed another boyfriend how to dig up the English ivy in the concrete box of dirt in front of his condo in order to plant a flower bed, I finally got to have my own garden when he became my husband. However, my husband bears most of the responsibility of tending our flower garden though I regularly buy annuals of poppies, pansies, primroses, petunias, bacopa, nemesia, mums, calibrachoa, marigolds, zinnias, snapdragons, coleus, and ornamental kales throughout the seasons. I used to think cactus plants and succulents were not the most attractive plants, BUT now I love them and and all their variations of green, gray and reds. Succulent container gardens have been the only kind of gardening where I seem to have any follow-through.
The yellow blooms had already done their thing and left a calloused middle, but another succulent (a kalanchoe?) was getting ready to bloom. And when it did, its weird orange petals that looked like stamen rings surprised and delighted me.
I spent the morning before Saturday clay afternoon tidying pots by plucking dead foliage and then transplanting overgrown succulents into other pots from the mini garden in the midcentury modern white pot I love and that I planted in Cayucos,
Patrick has been chiding me for letting my succulents overtake the table, and so I think I'll have to cleverly hide that I have so many before selling them at a pop-up.
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