If you have read this blog long enough, you know I have mastered the art of over promising and under delivering.

Not to mention dreaming big and doing nothing about it.

Or the love of a good ramble. 

This post covers all of those.    

To this day, I cherish and long for my lunch hour trips to the local nursery/garden center. One to two times per week, starting in March and ending in November, I can be spotted walking amongst the plants wearing a sensible polo shirt and the same pair of jeans I’ve had for 4 years now. It is a much needed break from the “desk job” and a chance to become “ONG” for an hour or so.

Contrary to how it sounds, I don’t make a ton of purchases while I’m at the garden center. Some times it is purely research, some times it is the hunt for a specific plant(s) and some times it is to wander aimlessly. It all does the soul well. It is my domain and where I belong. Not to sound too corny, but I am thankful to be able to have a garden that allows me to fill it with plants, a family that supports my passion and the health to be able to do it all without issue.

That was too sappy. Now I need to change it up and talk to you about something I witnessed while wandering the garden center earlier this week. It still sticks with me today and I apologize in advance for putting you through this.

As I walked through the main entrance of the nursery, my eyes were not drawn to the blooming hydrangeas, but to a dude wearing a tank top exactly like this.

Except he didn’t look exactly like that.

At all.

Imagine a cockier George Costanza with slick backed, jet black hair and a remarkable tan. My best guess is early 50’s.

I fought off the urge many times to pull his mini shirt back to cover his nipples which he apparently was thrilled to expose. Was anyone else as in awe as I was? I love and hate this guy all at the same time. So Jersey.

But even stranger than that was the fact that he had one small Sedum groundcover in his hands that he stared at, put down and then picked back up in an endless cycle.

He was there as long as I was and never moved off of the Sedum purchasing decision. I would have killed to have known how it all was playing out in his head. And to follow him home to not only see how long he would wear that shirt, but ultimately where that Sedum ended up.

I could excuse the attire, but never the purchase of only one groundcover.

Moving on.

In the early days of taking the weekly trek to the nursery, I learned about plants through theft. These days, I enjoy it for different reasons. At my mature age of 42 and having been around the garden block a few times over, I am well aware of those plants that will never work for me (basically anything that isn’t deer resistant and prefers sandy soil).

As a result, my vision is much more narrow. I enter with a purpose and the number of nonsensical purchases has been dramatically reduced. This pinpoint focus allows me to make smart decisions and my garden has improved as a result.

I also enjoy walking around and butting into other peoples’ conversations or personal contemplations. I am a quiet individual for the most part and typically mind my own business, but I have no issue jumping in where it is required.

“You don’t want that Crepe Myrtle, it won’t survive the winters here in zone 6B.”

“Really, another Arborvitae? Have you not seen enough of them around here? Let’s expand our horizons, aight.”

“Yes, that Ligularia will handle some sun. Do it.”

Thank you and come again.

Over the years, I’ve also observed the art of “the sell”. Or should I say the lack of “the sell”. My best estimate is that 75% of the shoppers at the nursery don’t know very much. Especially if they are there during the peak months of April/May when everything is at full price (note: buy in mid to late summer and late fall). These people need to be guided and educated. Put down those impatiens and let’s talk perennials. You don’t want only one coneflower, you want seven and here’s why.

As I paced the garden center this week, I came to a realization. I would love to own a nursery and sell plants to the public. My years of wandering their grounds has taught me that. I would love to impart my knowledge on those in desperate need of it. I would love to bring them coffee in the morning and share my new favorite IPA with them in the afternoon as they browse my amazing collection of Andropogons.

I want to hang with plant people and provide them with unique finds.

Of course I say all this without considering all that goes into it. I’m not that naive. And I am too risk averse to ever give it a try. But it is the aspect of gardening I enjoy the most.

I could never get into garden design because:

a)I only like what I like

b)I find that I lose interest when it comes to other peoples gardens

c)It seems like a lot of work

But plants without consideration of how they play with others is pretty fantastic. I can even imagine buyers taking the plants home and sending me pictures of them all grown up (the plants that is). People posing with their Panicums like they were a pet. We’d all be one big plant loving family and there would be peace throughout the world.

Guess I better keep my day job to fund this little adventure.

Have a great weekend.