My introduction was a little different.
I was put off by the first show I went to. The preening and strutting as scapes were moved to the head table. The disbelief and in one instance anger as scapes were not moved up. I wasn't interested in the ribbons and silver platters. Some of the attitudes were corrosive.
I was active in my club for many years, held office, published the newsletter, worked the sales tables, bus captained for a national, went to the meetings whenever possible. I went to regional meetings and made good friends through all of it.
I never went to another show.
What hooked me was a young man selling daylilies at a farmers market who told me I should visit Wilma Marley's garden (OKLAHOMA KICKINGBIRD hybridizer) bless her soul.
At that point we grew zero daylilies. Ms. Marley told us to look around and if we saw something we wanted, to tell her. It was just after peak bloom and I swear every bloom in her garden touched two other blooms.
We thought our three acres could handle a few of these and picked out three we liked (no I don't remember which) and that is when the magic started.
Her husband took a shovel and just dug up parts of the three clumps like he was digging a post hole, no careful placement of blade, just chomp chomp chomp. Ms. Marley then took the resulting pieces and whacked them next to the hole they came out of, whack whack whack, knocking dirt off the roots. Carrying them by the foliage she dumped them into a bucket if water and sloshed them around like dirty dish towels ( no I am not going to write slosh slosh slosh ... oops
) Then big shears and off went the tops. She handled them like Thalassa Cruso used to, no babying no gentle touch here or there. Of course, looking at the plants, those robust roots looked like they could walk back to our garden. Here were beautiful things full of so much promise.
And speaking of Ms. Cruso, she said;
"Once we become interested in the progress of the plants in our care, their development becomes a part of the rhythm of our own lives and we are refreshed by it."
That was it, it is about plants! Sure the blooms are fabulous but gardeners are all about plants. Ever notice there are no plants at a show?
It's just like cooking, the loaf of sourdough is the resultant but what counts is the starter, the flour, the fermentation and proofing, the oven spring, the crackling as the loaf sings fresh out of the oven, and the lovely grigne.
I celebrate the new fan, the first scape, the bursting bud, the last bloom, the ripening pod, the mysterious shiny black seed, mulching, watering, feeding, trying to decode a problem.
I love seeing other gardeners yards. Got that from Thalassa too;
"One of the pleasures of being a gardener comes from the enjoyment you get looking at other people's yards."
For me, mind you a don't say for anyone else, just me, the connection to the earth and its eternal cycle of life provided by gardening, is the ultimate place to bury so much of the tumult of the rest of the world.
For me, a scape in a bottle? Piffle. (With apologies to those who spend time and energy doing shows.)
Charley
