My mother has beautiful flowers and plants. People stop to take pictures of the cascading flowers in her planters. She is forever explaining to me how to take care of this plant or that plant. Unfortunately, talking to me about gardening is like the adults talking in a Peanuts cartoon. There is a garbled noise that I don't quite understand.
My approach to my garden is a more Darwinian type philosophy. Throw it in and see if it survives. Many plants don't survive but the ones that do, boy they're tough little suckers.
Take rhubarb. Rhubarb is not my favourite plant but I inherited a huge specimen when we bought this house. I know nothing about rhubarb except that it requires copious amounts of sugar to render it palatable. I divided the huge root, parcelled it out to friends, and relocated parts of the plant to other areas of the garden.
My mother offered this nugget of wisdom this summer. Rhubarb is apparently a heavy feeder; I should fertilise to keep it strong and healthy. Frankly, I don't know what I would do with a healthier plant. I just dig it up and move it every once and a while.
My mother was shocked... but then she burst out laughing.
The apple fell sooo far from that tree.
1 comment:
We have having a psychic moment. I too am not a gardener (although my mother is) and I just posted about it. I'm with ya!
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