The Imperfect Gardener

by Adina Sara

Fall in the garden there is no better time of year. The light is changing. Every day you are aware that the time after work, after changing out of work clothes into grubby garden gear to get a few things done outside, is growing shorter and shorter. Pretty soon there will be no time left after work to play in the garden. It will get cold and wet and uninviting. For now, every day in the garden feels like a treat, valued all the more for its brevity. The air is clean, and the colors of the sky at dusk bring out depths of color that do not show themselves in the harsh, hot light of summer. There is plenty of work to do, both cleaning and creating. But there is also the desire to be still, smell the air, watch the colors and shapes change before your eyes.

The work is everywhere. If it was a good year, there will be that much more to clean. Space opens up between plants, reminding you that it is time to fill in more bulbs, try a new perennial where another one failed. It is a time to reflect on last year's failures and revel in the successes. If you never did get around to planting sweet peas along the fence, now is the time you will regret it. If only one small clunk of zinnias actually grew from the seed packets you scattered, now is the time you will wish you had bought the six-packs instead. A few years back, the zinnias and cosmos and larkspur and nigella all fought for attention, finally flopping into the walkway so they had to be cut in order to pass through. Not this year. This year you spent more time at work, unexpected house guests arrived the weekend you were planning to go to the nursery, more weeks went by, and none of it ever happened.

But you did manage a couple of tomato plants, and ate all the fruit in a couple of weeks. One brown twig remains, holding up three stubborn green tomatoes that refuse to ripen. If you had only staggered the planting through June, as the books told you to, you'd be eating tomatoes still.

The basil did well. And for some reason, despite the neglect, the cucumbers kept producing. Go figure. The lavender and penstemon and potato vines continue to do their thing. And you have to appreciate the chard. It tends to be taken for granted, year-round lush stalks of yellow, red, and green leaves, always ready to eat. You have to appreciate the plants that thrive whether it was a year you worked hard out there or did nothing at all.

Fall in the garden is a time for reflection. It is a time to move the camellia buried under the New Guinea impatiens, healthy but hidden, and it deserves better. So does the California red bud. You bought it because you loved the name, but it really doesn't have a place in this garden. Decisions, regrets, changes, and still plenty of time for planting. Fall is the time to discard and create, all at once. While the light lasts. Hurry.

Plant Exchange

What are you planning to do with all those bulbs you just divided? Why not share them with your neighbor? E-mail imperfectgardens\@comcast.net, and share your extra plants, maybe get a few in exchange.