I have a graveyard of dead flowers and a spreadsheet with sobering evidence to prove my point. Today in celebration of Garden Rant’s 20th anniversary, I am finally attempting a genuine rant after 14 years stationed here at the exalted Garden Rant desk. My preference is for stories that blend people, gardens, and cultures. My apologies. I was an undergraduate sociology major in the Paleozoic era. By good fortune, my talented Garden Rant colleagues have always provided cover for me with penetrating opinions and dead-on wit.

Tim Barnwell photo
A few dead plants here and there are not a tragedy.
Nursery plants are not created with inalienable rights.
I tried and it died. It’s that simple.

Allen Bush 1982. J.C. Raulston photo.
For 15 years I owned Holbrook Farm and Nursery, a hand-to-mouth retail mail order business in Fletcher, North Carolina. I specialized in perennials. My customers lost plants. Every gardener does. I played sorrowful with the fake sympathy of a funeral home director. I don’t grieve for long for dead plants.

Tim Barnwell photo
Flowers have never been raised from the dead, but some customers, truly only a few, expected that I substitute a dead ringer. I obliged with a replacement plant. It’s simpler than a showdown about who or what is to blame.
Later, I spent another 22 years in the wholesale business as Director of Special Projects for Jelitto Perennial Seeds. In the nursery world, wholesale is a world apart from retail. Wholesalers will speak openly about how many ways there are to kill a plant. Retailers would rather stay mum.
You are responsible
You are responsible for the plants you brought home from the garden center. If your plants looked good on the sales table, you are enlisted to grow or kill them on your turf. Heaven forbid you drive a car into in a ditch on the way home.
A plant guarantee for life eternal?
In my professional career I enjoyed conversations with customers who needed encouragement, but there is a fine line. What is too much? Those who are new to gardening grow squeamish with too many disclaimers.
You need to water your plants initially, and periodically when needed, but not too much; and you may encounter temperatures too hot or too cold. And don’t let pooch trample the garden.
I have recited gardening perils more times than the Lord’s Prayer.
At some point teaching lessons becomes counterproductive. Eyes glaze over. Confidence melts.
The level of trust disappears.
There is a knockout punch.
“Your plants will live if it’s god’s will,” I explained while, in the back of my mind, I sang “Don’t forget to put to roses on my grave.”

Molly Bush with Nell and Bell in 1992
I waited for someone to question god’s will.
No one did.
The question triggered a moment of puzzlement and a response: “Well, of course. I should have thought of that.”
Elon Musk has plans for a “self-sustaining city on Mars,” but I doubt Elon will be packing a trowel on lift off. Please don’t go. I hope you will stay in the garden here on earth till death do us part.
I’m reminded of the post you wrote on plant catalog descriptions. So much promise, so much hope in the retail appeals, but the responsibility for keeping the plant alive once the gardener drives it off the lot should rest with the buyer. Someone should do a T-shirt with an outline of the Grim Reaper holding his scythe in one hand and a sorry-looking dead plant in the other, with the caption “I tried, and it died!”
Jenny, cut me in on a piece of the action on the t-shirt sales.
I don’t keep a spreadsheet of plants. Plenty tags show up in the garden that remind me of some treasure I once had. I grieve but when you’ve been gardening 45 years you do tend to turn philosophical. .
Mary Jane, I’m not religious about the spreadsheet. I try to enter the newly planted because there’s a run on my memory bank. I am still okay with genus and species, but cultivars? God help me.
Oh, yeah. Well I have several Spread sheets that I start and then lose somewhere over the years. So I wish I did have a spreadsheet. I have a Galanthus spreadsheet and talk about disappeared plants!!
Yeah, I got into Galanthus for a while. Didn’t last long. I wasn’t a good curator.
I agree with Mary Jane. As I become older, I am trying to not do many annuals. And letting the perennials become larger…Who cares as long as they are growing and filling in the flower beds? But as my hibiscus become taller and are flowering I am rethinking that bed for sure. Every one stay in and cool today! Allen I hope you don’t have much damage from high water…
Charlotte, the Salt River filled up almost all of the bottomland. Crept into the lower part of the barn a little bit. 4.5″ inches of pouring rain washed out chunks of the road. Could have been worse. I’m not liking this heat or the humidity.
Oh, Allen, a brilliant post as usual! Your last sentence made me laugh out loud. I have gardened on the windy, foggy Bolinas Mesa in California, later at 7800′ in the mountains with an acequia, now in the drought-ridden high desert of New Mexico. Possibly I might have found a more welcoming spot to live out my years. I made gardens in France, England and Italy. A long and joyful life! Still running around, hand-watering. Sending you affectionate greetings, Sarah
I well recall little Molly Bush running around.
Thank you, Sarah. I’m glad they rolled out the New Mexico welcome mat for you. You’re amazing. I wish I could pipe some Kentucky rainwater to you. We’ve been drenched thelast few weeks after a dry April and May.
I really liked the reminder that losing a few plants is simply part of gardening. It’s easy to get discouraged, but your perspective makes it feel like just another step in the learning process. Great read, thanks for sharing your point of view.
I remember being given a red potted Geranium (Pelargonium) on Easter Sunday when I was nine or ten. My mother said it was my responsibility to keep it watered. It was dead within a few weeks. That was the first of many learning lessons. Thanks for commenting, Ashley.
You gave me a baptisia plant ten years ago. (I believe you bought it from a nursery here in Wisconsin.) It grows and spreads and produces pretty flowers every May/June. I have planted other midwestern meadowland false (?) indigos, and, well, the rabbits have enjoyed them. Other plants no doubt suffer from my incompetence, but I have come to accept that and the rabbits (kind of). Trying to grow natives here where rabbits abound results in a thirty percent success rate, roughly, which is higher than the success rate of scientists applying for grants even before the idiot-in-chief took over. Your writing (to change the subject) is always a pleasure to read, old pal.
Thanks, Dwight. Join the club. We both have garden frontiers. Rabbits have been bedeviling us.Chipmunks, too.But there is good news. We’ve got a resident corn snake that seems to be doing a number on the chipmunks. And this past weekend, Mac Reid found a skeletonized rabbit near our bird feeder Coyotes? Maybe. We hear them occasionally but haven’t seen one in a few years. There are deer around but they’re not so bad. Hunters keep their numbers down in late fall. I need to visit you in Madison again. Your 10-year Baptisia merit badge warrants a partner. I’ll get you another someday. They are such good plants and long-lived.
Best, funniest rant in years, and I like most of them.
Tom, thanks for keeping up with Garden Rant.
Yes, this is a great Rant. A keeper, for sure.
Another reason why Allen should be collecting his wonderful Rants into a book!
As I so often nag him…
I have introduced myself at the start of Master Gardener class as having lots of experience in killing plants for over 50 years. Loved the rant.
Thank you, Barbara. I would love to sit in on your Master Gardener class someday. You’re the real deal.
Allen, this Rant is an especially fine one. Will read it time and again. With pleasure.
Loved the beard and hair from the ‘80s pic!
“Those were the days, my friend.”