The Imperfect Gardener

by Adina Sara

I really have no business writing a gardening column this month. Three months ago, I found myself at the mercy of an adorable puppy at the Oakland pound white paws on a fluffy black body, with striking blue eyes peering out from behind a shaggy face. Next thing I knew, I had added a wild little creature to my life, and to my garden. The pup may well have been a gardener in a past life. She derives great pleasure from pruning branches, digging deep holes, and transferring dirt from one place to another. She also plants things bones, slippers and covers them three inches deep. In a few short months, the night-blooming jasmine that I spent years training carefully to cascade over my front porch has been reduced to a stubbled mass of twigs. The dusty miller appears to be having a bad-hair day. I don't even want to talk about what she did to the tricolor abutilon that had finally filled in the corner fence.

Lately, my gardening tasks have been reduced to filling in the holes she's dug, sweeping up dirt that she excavated from the pots, and of course, making the rounds with the pooper scooper. I tried a dog-repellant spray, but she loves the stuff. Forget about planting. My garden hours are spent in damage control. Plans are underway to fence her into a separate section, but it's a little like closing the barn door after the horse has been stolen. The vegetable beds are lying fallow until she can be safely secured. I'm grateful she has yet to discover the honeysuckle. For now, it's a wait-and-see kind of landscape.

And so it is with gardening. You can spend decades fine-tuning, pruning, improving, and in no time at all, the whole miraculous creation can be undone. And it's not just on account of puppies. It can be a stranger a block away who cuts down the oak that had been blocking your view of MacArthur Blvd., or a perimeter hedge that finally collapses from its own dead weight, exposing you to schoolyard noises, or the neighbor's rusted car collection. For years, my property was secured by a 25' bamboo wall, accidentally mowed down one loud afternoon by a misguided rototiller. The bamboo screen gave my garden the illusion of being set on a tropical island. Now I see the lights of Albertson's from my living room. Gardens can change just like that despite all the plans, the exciting trips to the nursery, all that waiting and reaping. Without notice or sympathy, our gardens teach us that we are only slightly in control.

I am hoping that by the time spring is in full flower, my dog will be trained and the dirt beds will once again be transformed into something lush and beautiful. That's the best thing about gardening every year you get to start over, reinvent your imagination, and discover something new.

Plants to Share

I received two enthusiastic responses from readers offering up a great variety of plants to share, including peach iris (e-mail cavenoid\@littlepig.com), and echium, mullen, lilies, iris, sweet peas, and a variety of perennial herbs (e-mail Hadley\@musictocelebratelife.com). Thank you Metro neighbors for opening up your bounty to fellow gardeners. I hope to hear from more of you in the months to come.