May 5th, 2008
Today is a very bad transition day.
The Whining Part…
I had a great gardening weekend, but there are still about 20 things on my “to do” list that did not get accomplished. As a result, I had a fitful night’s sleep. Okay, maybe the raging case of poison ivy on my forearm that vaguely resembles what I imagine leprosy looks like also had something to do with not being able to sleep. But the point is that I didn’t sleep well, so I’m really in no shape to go to work. But my very mean and witchy boss (oh, that would be me!) made me show up anyway.
Then I had a mountain of data to organize and the data file wasn’t cooperating. I hate it when that happens. You know those people who are hooked on Sudoku? Well, if they had to deal with my data file issues, they wouldn’t be fiddling with flippin’ numbers in their free time. They’d be as far away from a computer and numbers as possible–like the far, far side of the garden.
And resting my diseased arm on the desk to mouse around that possessed data file is killing me.
But enough about my whiny little self. (Okay, not really.)
The Flower Show Part…
Last time I told you about how I overcame my flower fears. Several people confessed to similar flower issues and coping strategies. Linda grows orchids inside so she doesn’t have to cut her outdoor flowers. Elizabeth pots up tulips so she doesn’t have to cut the ones outside. Brenda goes flowerless and uses the old cat-will-eat-my-flowers-in-the-house excuse. Well, I thought I would show a little of what you’re missing if you don’t clip and bring in some of the floral bounty.
One of the kitchen arrangements right now is a profusion of tiny yellow roses from one of the two Monster Roses. No, that’s not really the name of the rose. I can’t even remember the name of this rose, but Monster Rose seems to suit.
I only love the Monster Roses in May, when they blooms like mad. They don’t have any scent at all, but the vision of all those yellow roses is a Technicolor dream. But since I have to hack at them eleven months out of the year with hedge clippers (and not gently), I didn’t feel guilty at all clipping off long branches to bring into the house.
As you can see, this Monster Rose bush hardly noticed the flowers were gone.
Although the tulips have now all faded, I managed to salvage a few last white ones to tuck into a small table arrangement with some bamboo sprouts.
Once the tulips and roses are dropping their petals, I’ll be bringing in some long branches from the Winter King Hawthorns that line our driveway. They are now in a profusion of white flowers.
There now, just thinking about the flowers has made me feel better. See what cutting flowers can do for you? Just like that it made my bad night’s sleep, disease-ravaged forearm and data nightmares disappeared. So get clipping!
May 2nd, 2008
I used to be afraid to cut the flowers in my garden to bring indoors. It was a classic case of flower fear.
Other people, I have heard, experience the same phenomenon. It is the fear that if you cut the flowers in your garden, it will take away from the outdoor beauty. Who wants a bald, flower-free garden, right?
For me, the flower fear ran so deep that I would buy flowers every week, even in the summer, to use in the kitchen, family room, bedroom and bathrooms rather than cut the ones right outside my back door.
But I want my own fabulous flowers in the house, darn it. And I also want my garden filled with an abundance of flowers. In short, I WANT IT ALL!
Why can’t I have it all? Martha Stewart has it all. Oprah has it all. Heck, Angelina Jolie has it all. Angelina even has Brad Pitt! Heck, if she can have Brad Pitt, why can’t I at least have indoor/outdoor flowers? Is that asking too much?
Last fall year I decided it face my flower fears.
I added my own little cutting beds so that I could give myself permission to invite some of them indoors. I stocked up on tulip bulbs. Red tulips, purple tulips, white tulips, pink tulips. Tulips, tulips, tulips. I think I must have been a bit single-minded the day I was stocking up on bulbs, because I came away with about six dozen tulip bulbs and very little of anything else.
If my selections lacked in imagination I can’t say that the execution was especially stellar either. I managed to get about half of the tulip bulbs planted in October before freezing rain and demanding clients drove me indoors. The unplanted tulip bulbs languished in a bucket in the garage. Every time I walked past the bucket to my car the little florist in my head would say, “You’re horrid! You’re killing the flowers. You’ll never have flowers in your house. You don’t deserve flowers in your house!”
The little florist in my head is mean. And sometimes she says bad words.
Finally, one warmish day in February I headed outside with the offending bucket of bulbs and dug them all in. I had no expectation that they would grow. After all, fall is the time to plant tulip bulbs, not February. But at least it shut that miserable little florist voice down for a while.
Amazing, but true, all of the tulip bulbs, including the February planted bulbs, grew and bloomed. And I’ve been cutting and cutting to keep the house tulip-filled for about a month now. I have another bunch of summer blooming flowers all planted and will be inviting them indoors as well.
I still don’t have Brad Pitt. And that miserable little florist in my head still nags at me about my arrangements. But I believe you can say I have recovered from my flower fears.