“Sometimes I believe in as many as six impossible things before breakfast.” Alice
Oh my goodness. I thought I was way out in front of gardening season this year. And now it’s already Hortlandia time. Oh sure, I’ve got it on my calendar, but I also thought today was tomorrow. So I didn’t realize Hortlandia was upon us until fellow plant luster Loree made mentioned.
Now I’m worried about lines and parking and whether this pesky bionic shoulder can bear the weight of a full box of plants. But I’m getting ahead of myself.
In my line of work at plant lust–researching, updating, and adding photos–I sometime forget whether I’m working or shopping. It’s a nice blurring of boundaries, mostly. But with a perennial list of 5,000 some plants in draft status, I don’t really have that much time to goof off. (Even as I write this post, I’m dipping into the data base to make a few tweaks.)
I review many plants every day, making it hard to stay on track. This began with a bang five years ago when we added our first Nursery, the great Gossler Farms, and has not abated since. That’s a good thing. But to think how much I thought I didn’t know then. It’s only a fraction of what I don’t know now!
When it comes to plant names, I feel like I’m the new kid at a party where everyone else is acquainted. I’m the outlier, so they remember my name, but having met them all at once, I don’t know which face goes with which name. It’s sort of like that with plants. They look familiar, and I know a lot of Latin names. Problem is, they’re not always connected to their moorings. And apparently it all goes willy-nilly anyway, because my planting style is similar to my use of the curbside recycling bin: it’s full when you can’t fit one more blade.
In anticipation of really being on top of gardening season this year, I’ve been putting together a lust list, prepping the beds, and getting a few plants in the ground. Then wham, unseasonably warm and dry weather. And just like that, I’m late. Plus I’m going to have to water. I know, tiny violins everywhere. But this is Portland. It ain’t supposed to be warm and dry in April. Plus I had a plan.
So tomorrow, plan be hanged, I’m off to Hortlandia to meet up with other wild-eyed plant enthusiasts. I’ve got high hopes that I’ll discover the plants on my list, and then some–whether I can remember their names or not.