…might not get the right plant food.
Today, I am very thankful for my friend Carole who has an uncanny ability (and, probably, some robust internet sources) to identify every plant I put in front of her—virtually speaking.
When we bought Casa Lagarto, we became the proud owners of a lot of flora and foliage. Previously, I could recognize a pine tree, a cactus, a daffodil and a rose. Also, hyacinth and hydrangeas. And not much else.
But here’s the value of networking—and a reminder that your network isn’t just your business acquaintances.
The first thing that happened is that my mom’s garden club held a meeting at my house. After lunch by the water and their business meeting, they walked me around my yard and identified 90% of my botanical holdings.
There were a few things they didn’t recognize, and that’s where Carole came in. She has unhesitatingly identified the Fringe Tree, the Mexican Hydrangea and the Spider Lily. Also, the Canna Lily.
From pictures.
It’s an amazing talent!
And now everything in the garden is not only lovely, it has a name.
So, what’s in a name?
Sure, names don’t alter the essential nature of the thing being named. On the other hand, if you’ve got a broken arm, you really don’t want your doctor calling it a brain tumor. Trouble will ensue.
A plant without a name renders my essential botanical cluelessness even more deadly to said plant than it might otherwise be. What generally saves them is my laissez faire attitude toward gardening. Non-interference results in more weeds than are strictly necessary, but it supports the “First, do no harm” doctrine that is at the heart of my horticultural practice.
With a name, I can look things up. I can research the best time of year for pruning, whether they need extra water (not too much of a problem in this year of the unending deluges), etc. In addition, cause of death can be narrowed to something other than “I did something wrong.” The carnation died from lack of water, the vinca died from too much water, but the begonia has survived because I recognized it needed water!
I don’t have a green thumb. But I do have good and knowledgeable friends, and any plants that perish have only me to blame.
Thanks, Carole!
* Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet, Act II, Sc. 2 (Flapdoodle!)
