My passion for the garden

o7”Because it’s there.”f7

--George Mallory

o7”I’d love to turn you on.”f7

--The Beatles

It beckoned to me, like Catalina silhouetted by a brilliant blue

sky. A warming breeze was followed by passerines, eager to find

sanctuary and nourishment. The staccato beat of a neighbor’s

jackhammer triggered construction memories, which heightened my

anticipation for escape. I fitted on my gloves and hat as I entered

our garden

My eyes, trained by years of retail and design-review service,

scanned the landscape. My attention turned first to the early-girl

tomato that I planted a few weeks past. I noted with satisfaction

that Catharine remembered to slip the new branches through the tape.

Numerous yellow blossoms promised a bumper crop for the fall.

The David Austin roses have enjoyed the warmer weather. Graham

Thomas held court with fabulous golden blooms, while heritage enticed

with full, pink petals. Catharine had been filling our vases for the

past month with roses and bamboo shoots. There was a lot to

appreciate about easy-to-care-for floribundas. I sprayed our roses

with an application of horticultural oil, noting with satisfaction

that the rose slugs were being managed.

Mealybugs have been plaguing our giant bamboo for nearly two

months. I switched out a couple Tanglefoot barriers, their white

surfaces turned brown, plastered from the ants that farm the

aforementioned pests. I washed the remaining pests off the black

bamboo with a stream of water. No manufactured pesticides are allowed

-- Catharine, the cats and the birds are too precious, and I could

tolerate a few pests.

The abutilon has disappointed me a bit this summer -- all foliage

and very little bloom. The winter was likely too mild and the early

summer sky too obscured to promote flowers. I probably watered my

mature plant excessively as well, directing it to produce only

leaves. Next year, I’ll increase the phosphorous to encourage more

flowers. I took the time to thin the shrub slightly, to allow the

sunlight better access to the interior.

I felt calmer, as I surveyed the shadier reaches of the garden.

Gardening, while being a major turn-on (second only to Catharine), is

most relaxing. The anemone and campanula were still blooming,

indicators of a changed weather pattern. However, my mood clouded

briefly as I spotted a pair of brown snails. Underfoot, their slimy

ways were ended with a crunch.

My tour nearly completed, the verbena appeared to be sagging under

the weight of bloom, but also because they were becoming

water-stressed. I upped the time on the sprinkler clock, to

anticipate increased water needs during the final stage of flowering

and a warmer than usual week. I added a shovel’s worth of mulch to

help keep their roots cool.

Traffic, duty, and heat were put aside as I puttered and pottered

in the garden. The green confines are protected and immune from what

may be occurring in the outside world. As I have grown wiser, I have

begun to understand more clearly why my father loved his garden with

such passion (second only to his love for my mother). See you next

time.

* Steve Kawaratani is married to local writer, Catharine Cooper,

and has three cats. He can be reached at 497.2438 or

[email protected].