They’ve come again. The annual reminders that arise from seemingly nowhere.
It’s those memories that flood my mind with memories of many gardening things I miss about a decades-ago life in the Midwest.
Daffodils with their perky yellow blossoms. Tulips reaching for the sky. Forsythia that lined the highway. Weeding, at nine-plus months pregnant. The massive strawberry patch in the backyard we inherited when we bought our first home, a red brick Craftsman-style house situated on two lots.
Concord grapes that the birds feasted on, and turning personally tended tomatoes into plenty of spaghetti sauce for the winter.
Furtively raiding a flower garden with a soon-to-be-divorced best friend and then transplanting prized, gorgeous, gigantic purple day lilies at 9 p.m. between the yucca bushes at my front sidewalk.
And here?
I can’t even put potted geraniums out because the elk love to rip them up, spit them out, and break the pots in the process.
Several years ago, a neighbor whose name I never knew heaped lavish praise on the matching terra cotta pots full of colorful annuals lining my deck railing. Ten days later, I awoke to find the beautiful display of about $75 worth of hard, loving labor lying on the ground in broken shards.
Another year, I knew my mother, who lived in the valley, would appreciate receiving a colorful display as a Mother’s Day gift. I also knew those plants would not be available when it was time to buy them, nor could they survive three weeks of Estes Park weather between purchase and transport to their new home in a more hospitable climate.
In and out of the garage, they went each day so they could get sunshine and not freeze. I watered them and watched them flourish. The day we returned from an impromptu four-day jaunt, I found the great gift withered and definitely not worth considering for even elk fodder.
I’d rather not tally up the amount of money I’ve spent trying to spruce up the place or have slight curb appeal for my delight (no, we’re not even considering selling). Instead, I seem to have the innate knack of feeding voles and Wyoming ground squirrels.
Last year, I tried to establish a ground cover that the directions said rabbits and rodents didn’t like and went so far as to purchase little metal “hats” to protect the growth. It appeared to work, and I was ever so pleased with the result.
Now that there is absolutely no sign of any growth, I’m willing to give away $50 of cute little chicken wire cloche plant covers just to get them out of the garage.
All of this is testament to my love of digging in the dirt outside.
I do the indoor plant thing quite successfully. I have plants inside my home that are more than 30 years old. I just want plants that will survive voles, Wyoming Ground Squirrels, rabbits, sudden freezes, snow in July, elk, and deer for more than just one season.
Ah, yes. For the long-ago glory of the growing season of the Midwest that I remember.