The list “You Know You’re a Gardener If…” is not original. I found it a few years ago, though I don’t remember where. I never needed a description of any sort to discover if I was really a gardener, yet it could prove helpful to others who are pondering whether or not they’ve thoroughly succumbed to this condition. So I decided to save it for our April Fools issue, and embellish it a little with my own two cents.
- You consider well aged feces a thoughtful gift.
And you’re particular about it, knowing way more facts about the value of one manure over the other than anyone should. And can answer questions like – how can I determine the kinds of weed seeds in my horse manure? And — will my nose alone be able to detect if my rabbit’s fecal pellets contain too much urine? Articles readily available like “The Scoop on Poop” provide plenty of TMI.
- When you see someone trimming trees, you wonder if you could use a cutting of that.
This no longer applies to me, though I remember those times well, and fondly, as I have no more room for more trees. Instead, I have heart palpitations when my shrubs and trees are being trimmed, or should I say, scalped, in the spring. It takes me half a season to get used to the new look.
3,You have taken bags of leaves (i.e. other people’s trash) off the street to use as mulch.
There are few sights as disturbing to gardeners as composting leaves stuffed into plastic, but I’ve no need to confiscate them as we have the unenviable circumstance of leaves from everyone else’s lawns landing in ours. Confused visitors, observing mountains of leaves, ask – but where are they from? We’ve been prudent in growing trees that produce massive leaf litter, planting only one for dense shade – for the picnic table, the hammock, the swing — we even park the car under it.
4,You have saved pits or seeds from fruits you liked, in your purse, or pocket, to sprout at home. If they sprouted, you were momentarily intoxicated with your Godlike ability to create life.
Sprouting seeds always seems like a miracle, especially when we’ve collected them from fruits, vegetables, or the side of the road. I confess, when we visited Robert Frost’s home and museum, I absconded with milk weed pods. I don’t usually have sticky fingers, but who would miss them in this sea of fluff? Plus, they lined the path where “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening” was penned, and I think that’s what they call “poetic justice”.
- You hoard yogurt containers, plastic bottles, and egg cartons. Why? They’re useful in the garden.
The results of my hoarding days are evident, but they’re officially over. That we spend the first half of our life collecting things and the last half giving things away is never more evident than in the garden, where it applies to containers and plants. Though there are other indicators (the knees, the back) that signal more forcefully that some of us are well into that last half.
6. You sometimes forget your to-do list because plants need staring at.
This is the most true. It’s a well-known fact that flowers respond wholeheartedly to being spoken, or sung, to, but they also benefit from basking in the hours-long glow of the gardener’s gaze. I often think this might be, at least on a sub-conscience level, one of the major reasons for growing them – to have an excuse to just sit and stare.
7. You think store bought tomatoes are disgusting.
At least during the summer months. I treat myself to a BLT every day for lunch while they’re producing, because I won’t eat my favorite sandwich for the rest of the year. But why stop there? It’s the same with dill pickles, fresh from the brine, string beans, and corn-on-the-cob.
8. A sale at a nursery is always more exciting than a sale at a department store.
Always! And since these sales coincide with the end of the growing season, this is the reason I never start winter, which I realize on the first cold, rainy day of the season, with new boots that have no holes in their soles. Oops. I forgot to go buy them. Again.
9. When you meet someone who likes to garden, you feel an immediate and unbreakable bond with them.
Absolutely! At least when it comes to the subject of flowers. Gardens are one of the few arenas where politics, even at these times, takes a back seat. I’ve never known political conflict to infiltrate a conversation on flowers, though admittedly I didn’t put it to the test last fall, and it might not remain true this year. “Tip-toe through the tulips” might be the best advice for the coming season.
10. You would not be reading this if it were not about gardening.
If you’ve finished this, and answered at least some of the questions in the affirmative, then you probably didn’t need to read the list anyway. Yet here you are.
My husband, “the reluctant gardener”, would add garden terms, which we refer to as “parlance” to the list: “temperature” from the plants’ point of view, not the people’s, “perfect weather” not to relax and enjoy it, but to plant, rake and weed things, and “color” – for example, where everyone sees purple flowers, gardeners see blue, as well as all sorts of shades in what everyone else would simply call “white”. He would also claim we have different definitions for certain words such as “entertainment”, as in flower shows and classes on herbal teas, and “fun”, as in “Let’s dig up a water garden!”
Whether you’re a gardener or not – happy spring, Hampton! We’ve certainly earned it this year.
Dayna McDerm