In the face of our increasingly warming and drying climate in the Pacific Northwest, my front garden is planted to reduce time at the end of a hose.
While I’m a lifelong gardener, it wasn’t until the mid 90s when I got a job at a neighborhood nursery that I truly met “my people.” Folks like me for whom every blossom, bulb, twig and blade of grass was a constant source of wonder and possibility. Thus began (at the end of a hose) a career in horticulture that’s occupied my days ever since — plenty of those continue to be spent at the end of a hose.
A few years later, along with a couple of talented plantswomen, I opened Fremont Gardens. For 13 years I tended my tiny nursery on a triangular lot in an industrial area of Seattle surrounded by crab pots, car repair shops and a car wash. Daily contact with plant loving gardeners was a dream — taxes and cash flow, not so much. But the best part of nursery life was the growing community of loyal customers, employees and plant growers. Those were the glory days of independent and specialty nurseries; I was in such good company.
The nursery’s monthly newsletter was my entrée to writing. My garden gave me a language for telling stories that connected with others. It taught me about germination, growth, love and loss, you know — life. My garden taught me to be flawed but generous, willing to face failure, and to always begin again. There’s a reason our motto at Fremont Gardens was “Grow it, Kill it, Know it.” Even (especially?) plant experts kill a lot of plants.
This rootbeer-colored PCH Iris has been with me since my nursery days.
The back garden in Seattle at peak summer.
Orange ‘Jaunne Flamme’ tomatoes are a reliable producer in the mild climate of the Pacific Northwest.
My home garden grants me permission to play with color, even if that means pairing hot pink fuschia (‘Dying Embers’) with orange begonias (‘Sutherlandii’)
Every growing season is another opportunity to experiment with growing cutflowers from seed.
If memory serves me (and it never does), over the years I’ve created many iterations of my home garden. I’ve grown used to my husband repeatedly asking, “Didn’t we just do this?” Isn’t that adorable? Nevertheless, he always helped me dig, haul, plot and plant.
Capricious days of garden reinvention are behind me. I’d like to think that I’ve settled into my forever garden, but my garden education never ends. I’d love to see a world where the best parts of tending a garden — nurturing and connection — become a part of the fabric of society. Beauty is a seductive invitation to tend to the larger world. Plant the world, grow yourself.
My garden intentions = plants + productivity + pollinators
This was lovely, thank you. I’ve only just built own forever garden; it’s in its third season, now, even though I’ve gardened in some capacity most of my life (many years were spent with houseplants in NYC apartments). I’m sitting here, on the brink of spring, with so many bare roots and plugs and pots being shipped out within days – standing on the starting line, ready to go, go, go, go and make all those transformations that I’ll be able to look back on, and probably even change once or twice.
This was a wonderful perspective, to just sit and take a moment this morning, before all of that work begins, to just absorb. Open up to broader world and meet my plant people. Plant the world, grow yourself, indeed.
We gardeners know how to bottle anticipation!
Inspiration for serious gardeners. Thank you!
Happy (almost) spring!
Always enjoy your writing. Especially this one. Thank you
Thank you Elaine!
I love your evocative writing, and can see the garden pictures in my brain that your words paint. Your fuschia and orange combo is lovely and reminds me of one of my favorite native plants here in our Blue Ridge mountain woods, hearts-a-bustin’ (Euonymous americanus). We say only Mother Nature can get away with that color combination, but I think you’ve pulled it off!
I love that Euonymous — a kindred plant/spirit indeed!
Lovely as always. Thank you for sharing.
Thank you Iani!
‘Grow it. Kill it. Know it.” – FANTASTIC motto to live by as a gardener! My sister who co-owned an outdoor equipment store said to me once, “You get into the business because you love the life and the stuff. And then, the administration of the business of the life and the stuff becomes too much.” — it’s the line that stays with me every time I’m so tempted to start propagating on a “for sale” level — the administration of a garden writing life is hard enough! Good for you for doing it anyway! – MW