Confessions of a closet gardener

So, I'm a closet gardener. Or at least that's how I think of it. I don't have seed catalogs. I don't have gardening gloves and equipment and all the other paraphernalia. I don't even have a watering can come to think of it! But I love plants. I love having them around. I love playing in the mud. I love digging right into the mud with my hands. I love the smell of the mud when water is poured into it.

I love coming home at the end of a long day at work and going to each of my plants and stroking their leaves, touching the blooms, sticking a finger in the mud to see if they have enough water. I love seeing them early in the morning before I begin my day. And yes, I might as well tell you, I love talking to them. Admittedly I don't have long gossipy conversations with them. I like telling them bits of my day or even simply asking them sometimes how they're doing. I know , I know it sounds like I'm nuts. But the truth is there is something comforting about the way they stand there steady and somehow eternal and silent.

The best bit of growing plants though is when the flowering ones bloom. There are few things as satisfying as seeing that first bud grow, fatten, feel the life grow in it and then finally one fine morning the petals open -sometimes slowly and sometimes all of a sudden in a glorious burst of life and pure happiness and color.

Miss Violet with her first blooms

I plan to make a tropical forest in my balcony if it kills me or even if makes my nails absolutely ragged and dirty!I love those beauties. And the first ones to burst into bloom have been my African Violet and my beautiful Begonia. Violet here is a bit of a fuss pot with all her exacting temperature and water requirements but it's been a pleasure watching her bloom...The Begonia though has been bursting with waxy red blooms ever since she arrived. And for such a little plant she's been quite prolific.

Begonia

 







We have also acquired two different kinds of jasmine, a couple of geraniums and a deep red salvia. Can't wait for them to bloom!

The other residents

I often imagine these guys just sitting there and contemplating life. Or not contemplating. But simply being. That sense of just being. Breathing, drinking, blooming, growing. Silently. Steadily. Always. You do see a world in a wild flower. No wonder a bunch of daffodils moved a man to write a poem. How could one not? These lovelies make poets out of the driest of us I think. And let me tell you something else- there is nothing more startlingly wonderful than the encounter between a child and a plant. Ever seen that happen? There are few things that will surprise you as much as that, trust me...