I actually like keeping records. I can get obsessive about it, and that has gotten me into trouble in the past. So last fall, when I was frantically planting out the plants I had kept in containers–some of them for two years–I left the documenting of that planting for “later,” applauding myself for not getting uptight about it. (The neglected record-keeping, that is–I was kind of uptight about getting everything planted before it snowed.)
I had to make the best use of every decent moment outdoors, since decent weather was becoming less frequent, and when I got back inside I had to do the things that had gotten put off while I was outside scratching my head and wondering where the heck I could shoehorn in the current specimen in need of a permanent home. I scribbled locations on labels or plant names on roughly sketched maps and tossed them in a basket, thinking I would have plenty of time this winter to sort things out and write them down.
Winter is just about over, and the basket is still full.
The snow has finally melted on all but the north side of the house, and on my first walk around the garden, I found myself surprised and puzzled by what I saw. Perhaps this has happened to you, too?Every garden walk is filled with anticipation, as I never know what I’m going to find. As I’ve been pressing heaved plants back into the earth and noting the worst weed patches, I find myself wondering where I planted the Arisaema candidissimum, the most expensive single bulb of my fall Odyssey Bulb order. It says it needs partial shade…I’ve got plenty of that…and well-drained soil…I don’t have any of that–so if I were me, where would I plant it? I’ll let you know if I find out!