Tag: gardening

those thousand-mile journeys

The picture is of the window ledge over my kitchen sink. It is, for the most part, my plant hospital for plants that are not faring well and need special attention. Most of those plants heal, start thriving, and get put in the living room that gets attention but not daily and more light. But what I wanted to write about is the parable I see in the two paper white bulbs growing in water that are close to the window in the back of the photo.

I love paper white narcissus for the winter holidays, although many years I start them too late or forget to find/order some at all. This year I remembered and may have a few blooms by New Year’s.

These two healthy bulbs were ordered from my favorite bulb distributor and put in water on the same day. The bulb on the left took off like gangbusters. I think it was in water less than two full days when tiny roots appeared, the greens followed quickly, and a tiny bud has formed. The bulb on the left was the opposite. It has taken a few weeks for any roots to appear. They are short, and there are few of them. The greens have hardly begun. 

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Posted on by Suzanne Buchko 0

wednesday

I’ve left breakfast dishes in the sink this morning. On purpose. If I was my mother I would have washed them as soon as Julia left for the day. If I was myself ten or 14 years ago, I would have washed them as Julia got into the van.  Back then, I needed to control something and washing dishes was a doable task. An easy success. And I needed success. 

Now, I am willing to let them slide. To let them wait until . . . . until later.  I will wash before I go to bed tonight. So, okay, I still have some need of control.

Instead of washing, I poured a glass of clean water, taped off a page of my sketchbook and spritzed the water colors. I am trying to paint. I am painting. I cannot seem to sit in meditation these days. I wander, I obsess, I plan. I slip too easily into past and future. I bring my mind back time after time, but I am not patient with myself, with the practice that I’ve had for years.

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Posted on by Suzanne Buchko 0

micro-climates

“A microclimate is a local set of atmospheric conditions that differ from those in the surrounding areas, often slightly but sometimes substantially.” ~some website

I’ve never noticed that I had one in any garden I’ve made.  My neighbor, Maria, had one. Along the side of her house that faced my side door in Madison, daffodils bloomed at least a week before the rest of the neighborhood or my front or back gardens.  The thing about her microclimate was that she did nothing to it.  I mean, the bulbs were planted and the bed cleaned and tended, but no special watering or fertilizing went on. Those daffodils just returned year after year a week or so earlier than any others.  And I was able to step outside of my side door in the early spring and be greeted by their absolute glorious yellow-ness.

And I’d like to report that I may have my own microclimate right by the stairs off my back porch.  I noticed it last week. This is my third spring in this house–during the first one, I was still unpacking, last year, it was the front garden bed that I paid most attention to, this spring, I have the eyes for smaller things.

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Posted on by Suzanne Buchko 0

because it’s june, june, june, june . . .

I am a gardener.  

I’ve begun at least four memoir pieces with that sentence but honestly, I wondered if I would ever really feel like I was that declaration again.  At the blue Victorian that we moved to from Madison and in which we spent the Covid years, I cultivated a small vegetable patch that was shaded part of the day by the houses around it.  It is never a glorious garden but it gave us something to do that first summer of shut down and there were tomatoes and greens and peppers and a small pumpkin. 

Early on in my tenancy at our present house, I asked the landlord if I could garden.  The foundation planting was sparse and old. There must have been other shrubs and bushes at one time but what was left was four plants spread far apart and planted up close to the house.  

My landlord said I could do what I wanted to do and even volunteered a bit of help—his landscapers trimmed bushes that needed the trimming and even took the grass up when I decided on the shape of the front garden bed.  

I started planning the front bed while I was sick and unable to do much running around.  As I began the planning, I wondered if it made sense to invest in a garden that would take a few years to develop and cultivate in a rental house but I came to the idea that I have made three gardens, each in a house that I owned.  But that after planting and tending and loving those gardens, I sold the houses and left those gardens. And it wasn’t so much the beauty of the gardens that I was/am most attached to, it is the process of making a garden and making a garden in the front of this house that we live in would give me pleasure.  

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Posted on by Suzanne Buchko 2