a day well spent

when the weather turns a bit cloudy and there’s a hint of rain (anywhere in the same hemisphere) i am filled with hope for the garden.  botanical struggles ( lost or abandoned) are forgotten and i happily make plans for new additions to the slice of eden - chez moi.  one of the decadent pleasures of my  fast-living life is visiting the local plant nursery.

at this den of temptation and allure,  i am greeted at the entrance by new “exotics” (the equivalent of candy at the grocery store check-out line- tempting but does you no good) and “in-bloom plants’ in impossibly small pots and packets  with only four leaves on a tiny twig but  huge psychedelic flowers (the elixir they must use for this feat is ranked just one notch below hair re-growth tonic in the list of magic potions– is it out there? I want - both!!).  next are beautifully arranged bags of pebbles, rocks and marbles – didn’t realise i needed them till just now.  a tranquil statue of buddha reminds me to inhale and think gentle non-covetous  thoughts.


 i sigh and  move on to the ‘core’ plants-the knowledge of whose name and  provenance separates the amateurs from  us badass  pros. indoor shady this way – outdoor sunny that way – indoor but bright light here - outdoor but semi shade there - plants i know i have once had but mysteriously are no longer in the garden- imported plants (eeeks- do the culture police know?)- bizzaro succulents - water plants floating languidly in large pots- herbal plants to satisfy the druids-so much to see and touch .

i  force  myself to inhale and exhale again. do i take photos (to go home and relive the joy- many times) or be mindful and enjoy arcadia in the here and now . it’s so stressful being restful.  the more utilitarian shade trees, fruit trees and vegetable saplings are next and i have renewed visions of being an urban farmer – however too many failed attempts in this department inhibit my otherwise unhindered  selection.  “cluck it” as the imaginary rooster of my imaginary urban farm would say.  i move on.  after careful deliberation, plenty of  returns and revisions to my ideas and lists – i am done- the narrowing down to the barest minimum (want not waste not, that's me).

now the billing.  the owner’s face lights up and he  says how terrific it is to see me and hasn’t it been atleast a fortnight? gives me an unasked for discount and hands me a complimentary pair of garden secateurs.  i cursorily check the bill - an amount like that would have seen me wringing my hands in grief if buying clothes but now appears to be  a sensible allocation of monthly expenses.

 the good times roll – we load up the limo (who needs a back seat ??-a very overrated feature if you ask me.  what i  do need however is a pick up truck). my head is buzzing with happy ideas for my little garden that is bigger than the pen of my aunt. but as i forsake the pleasure campus of the nursery a sneaking suspicion creeps up on me that maybe  i’ve bought too much- again.  when i drive onto the highway, i realise that i can’t see much in the rear view mirror except plants – i am sure there’s a metaphor in this somewhere but i can’t see that either.  people stare at me at traffic lights- because there a lush leafy branch next to my ear (flower included).  maybe the sedan looks better this way?  no time to be all smirky- i reach home and  unload the car very quickly and quietly before the rest of the family might see me and then comment  in incredulous tones “again? you went to the nursery???”and then the inevitable but silly “do we even have  place for all this?”