End-of-Season Thoughts of an Accidental Gardener

After nine years in Seattle, I'm still a little amazed that in mid-November, everything is still so green, albeit soggy; some flowers are still in bloom; and today I was gardening, well sort of gardening-- tending to outdoor plants, at least-- and not shoveling snow.

A master gardener, or any true gardener more masterful than I, might chuckle at what I call gardening at any time of the year. I've stumbled upon my skills, really don't know what I'm doing, but I do derive a great deal of pleasure from the annuals that I pop into pots of all sizes and place on the deck to watch in fascination as they take off, or don't, as is sometimes the case.

I'm fond of the usual stuff: geraniums, petunias, marigolds, lobelia, ivy and other assorted viney things. I look forward to my annual trek to various nurseries and garden departments to select plants in late May. I love transferring fragile little seedlings from their 1- or 2- inch plastic planters into their new homes, and more or less randomly grouping different varieties together to see how they'll fare throughout the season. I enjoy watching them thrive, seeing some take over a pot while others struggle for space. By the time August rolls around, when it's still light at 9 p.m., I relish the hours spent sitting out there, enjoying a glass of wine and Cosmo's company, and taking in all the color and what is to me, sheer opulence.

This year I planted a gerbera daisy for the first time. I placed it alone in an aluminum watering can that I've turned into a planter. This plant was the most fun to watch as it flourished throughout the season. Unlike other flowering plants whose blossoms branch off from the greenery, the flower of the gerbera daisy sprouts up from the dirt on its own stalk. At first it hides under the leaves, and the tiny bloom is face-down and green. As the stalk grows and the blossom gets bigger, its face gradually turns sunward and eventually it bursts upright, rising triumphantly above the foliage. My plant produced one flower at a time, but it seemed to pace itself so that as the mature flower faded, a new tiny flower crouched under the protective leafy wings, waiting its turn to make a grand and stately entrance. We enjoyed a perpetual flame of color from this delightful little princess all summer long. And even now there's still one more fledgling bloom hiding under the leaves, trying to win a race against time.

Today I swept the last of the leaves off the deck, removed fallen leaves from the pots, picked dead leaves off the plants, tossed the plants that were done for sure, and rearranged everything that was left. I was quite pleased with the result, and felt a great sense of accomplishment in prolonging the life of my container garden. The summer furniture's covered and put away, but the deck acutally looks quite lovely on this November day. We can continue to enjoy the remaining spots of color, even from indoors, even through the inevitable November rain.

And I'm rooting for that last little gerbera. I hope it has a chance to pop up into full bloom before it succumbs to the frost.