I have spent the last two days, and Memorial Day yet to come, talking to gardening clients about what to do.  What pots are right?   What shall I plant in those pots?   What trees would be good; I need some shade.  How can this perennial garden be a little better  than last year?  What is my problem, that I can’t grow columbines? What do I do about the woodchucks, the chipmunks, the rabbits, the neighbor’s dog and the Japanese beetles?  What will tolerate all the wind off the lake, the heat of the pavement, the soccer ball?  There’s excitement in the air;  the season is in session.  There’s grumbling about the cold spring, the vicious winter that claimed this old tree wisteria and heaved up a slew of new perennials planted a shade too late the previous fall.  We are talking about graduation parties, potato salad,  where to get grill parts, do you favor powerwashing decks, or not?   Needless to say, given all the activities that come with being able to live a little outdoors,  I have talked a lot the past 2 days.

But the best advice I have: plan your moves.  Pick a project. A reasonably sized project. Master plan the next 5 years of your landscape in the winter. If your landscape is important, its not a Memorial Day emergency.  If your garden is an emergency, its not that important.  Get organized.  Cut out pictures of things you like.  Make a file; write your thoughts, then figure out what about each picture interests you-with people there are threads that can be woven together to make something.  If you try for everything and everywhere all at once, nothing will be thoroughly executed, and everything will show the lack of focus.  We Americans live such crazy lives-take a two hour lunch, and dream a little.

  Read up on all those annuals and perennials you see only in leaf-do not succumb to buying only those things you see in bloom. So much of a garden is about seduction-give in to it, but be good natured about the outcome.   Do not succumb to pictures in catalogues-a photograph records only 1/125 of a second in the garden-do read about things you like-assess their staying power.  Visit other people’s garden’s. Move things around. Go for broke.  Hang back, if something makes your pulse go quiet.    Most everyone has an imagination that works, if you give some time to letting it work. Read the tags, ask for help, take notes. Give it some time.   Be in charge of your garden; no one cares about it more than you do. 

In short, do something.  This season is in session.

I have become very interested in gardening in containers in the last 10 years; how enchanting to have the option of ignoring the demands of in ground cultivation. I like composing and planting them, even though I know my notion that I will have control over everything that happens later is an illusion. I choose the composition of the soil, the nutrients, the plants, the location that offers the best light.  I can water the pot as a whole, or I can water plants individually. I can introduce plants from South America to those from South Africa, and get them to thrive visually and physically, next to each other. Some containers I might plant with trees, or evergreens, or vegetables; others might have an aura of a roadside meadow. A container might have sculpture, mementoes, a banner-this in additon to the plants.  I might use a dead branch as a natural stake for a mandevillea. Some plants are old favorites; some are new to me.  Some pots I plant such that grown in, they assume a collective shape quite unlike their individual shapes. Some containers are breathtaking-empty.  Knowing when to stop, how to edit-this is an adult skill.

Relative to a plot of land, a container is small.  I am less afraid of a small failure than a big one-who isn’t? Thus I try things.  I am sure I have planted thousands of pots, and I am ready to plant more.  When I was young, I was sure that I would begin at point A, move to B, and shortly therafter, get to Z; voila-perfection. It never occurred to me to wonder  what I might do after that triumphant moment.   How embarrassing to recall having thought the world revolved around me. In fact,  I could learn new things about gardening every day-its a matter of making an effort to listen, and look-not a lack of things I know nothing about. It seems like new things appear to me at a faster rate that they did 30 years ago.  I believed that science existed perfect and entire-and therefore perfect understanding was within my reach. The more years I study, and add to my knowledge, the further I seem to be from a definition of the living world beyond its miracle.   Now I realize that perfection applies only to diamonds and moments. Not to my ideas, my knowledge, my efforts or my intentions, or my work.  I am relieved by this.

How grateful I am there is no best and perfect planting,  so I can go on making them.

I have in store a series of posts for next week on annual plantings, as now is the time to be planning for this. It is my opinion that the contribution annuals make to a landscape and a life, is underrated; see the following. 

 Annual plants, meaning all and any plant not hardy in my zone,  are the organizing metaphor of my professional and personal life for 6 weeks in early summer; this I like.  I stubbornly resist planting annuals until I am convinced the soil and air is warm enough, and then I live eat and breathe them until all my clients are planted.  The whole season drives me crazy, and makes me happy. I shop as many growers and markets as I can.  I have favorite plants custom grown. In a timely year, I am replanting my clients who have had spring plantings in April, from July 1 until July 15.  Looking at the schedule of the full moons to come, I think the warm weather will come early-so I may start planting May 15-20.

 One year, I did not start planting annuals for my clients until June 1.  I spent more time talking about proper timing, and fending off indignant phone calls, than I did planting, but mostly my clients understand that a proper job done at the beginning helps make for season long success. 

 You do need to know up front, that I value annual plants equally to other any other plant in my landscape. In some cases, I value them more than “perennial” plants; here’s why.

 My overall landscape is composed of trees, evergreens, shrubs and perennials that provide substance, volume, partnership, and companionship, in tandem with the seasons, and the weather. The relationship of one plant to another, interests me more than a plant itself. The relationship of the landscape to the weather, and the season interests me even more.  I am definitely not a plant collector; I am a picture maker.

My most favorite thing about annuals is that I commit to them for one season only; I like having an element in my landscape that I can look forward to changing every year.  One year I might fancy hot colors and tropical textures-the next I might organize my whole terrace planting around a pale pink fuchsia on standard whose beauty I cannot get out of my mind. Some things I try, don’t work out as I imagined they would-what a relief that come November, they are gone for good.  This has the sweet ring of freedom to me.  Annuals first and foremost give the gift of second chances.

Annuals work hard in a number of other ways. They are biologically programmed to set seed before they are killed by frost.  Removing the dead flower heads sets in motion the production of new flowers.  Some annuals set no seed.  The end result of this is continuous bloom; they flower willingly from start to finish.  I like this kind of return for my investment, and my effort.

I am especially fond of color; I am ready for a change from the black and white which is my winter. Annual flowers have an incredible color range from which to pick.  As many are native to other parts of the world, I appreciate their leaf forms and habits in contrast to the plants I live with every day.  Beds of large growing annuals can give the look of a beautiful perennial garden-in a smaller space, and over a much longer period of time.But mostly I love how much pleasure they give me, day after day.

Beautiful pots stuffed with flowers, flowers blooming everywhere, are a joy I would not want to do without.       

 My partner Buck collects all manner of old gauges; he tells me they are known as potentiometers.  They measure with incredible accuracy, electric current.  These devices are beautiful wood boxes studded with all manner of knobs and dials. Many of them hang on the walls of his office; they are beautiful objects. I do not share his passion for instruments of all kinds, but I do like the idea of potentiometers.  It is my opinion that most every person comes with imagination, creativity, and a whole host of other things that make it possible to design- as standard equipment. If you think you do not have this, then maybe you need to switch on your potentiometer.

 A college professor of literature once told me he thought the transmission of knowledge was one of life’s most important responsibilities. The closest I come to teaching is speaking to groups. Some groups are focused on gardening. The herb society wants my discussion of classical English herb gardens. The women’s farm and garden wants a demonstration on proper planting techniques. Other groups are tougher to plan for, and engage.  A spring charity luncheon needs a guest speaker; what will I talk to them about? Who are they? 

 But no matter the group, or my topic, most questions people ask me imply that my ability to design, and garden is a special gift. A gift given to some, and mostly not to others.  Some people have God-given creativity and astonishing imaginations;  others do not. Most questions thus relate to rules, formulas, and tips. People love lists-and especially lists that might get them beauty through the back door, as they clearly think they have no business at the front. They ask, how can one create a garden in spite of a lack of creativity? Are there secrets I might share? Where do my ideas come from? I want to have what you do in my life-how can I engineer that for myself, hiring you, or a step short of hiring you?  I cannot keep anything alive, I cannot organize this garden, this event, or this porch-can you help me to get where I would like to be? I know you have clients; do you coach?  I recognize these straight line feelings; I often fear I have dreamed up my last idea. I worry regularly that I am going lame or repeating myself, maybe faster than I think. At some point, it shocked me to realize there was no program I could sign myself up for, and be awarded not just a degree, but aesthetic vision, at the end.  So I am sympathetic to these questions. However, I find beautiful work, talented people,inspiring ideas, gorgeous gardens, interesting landscapes, everywhere I go.  Everywhere. 

Lauren Hanson takes my writing and my photographs, and does the work of posting for me-but Sundays, I do this myself.  So why is this post in my favorite font, at my favorite size, and oo la la, in green-unlike any other post ever published here, when I know next to nothing about computers?  I have no doubt it is my potentiometer-working.