What I Learned At The Nursery (Part 1)

July 22, 2018July 22, 2018 / Kevin / 5 Comments

As some of you know, I’ve spent a little more than two years working as a water boy in the garden center of a local box store. It was a bucket list kind of a job, something to do part time, something to fill up a few hours of the day.

I really just wanted to water plants.

The job, of course, was more than just watering. It was stocking shelves, assisting with deliveries, putting together Internet orders, and answering customer questions and helping them lift fencing and pavers and bags of mulch and stone. Somewhere in there, watering was done.

My decision to leave was a perfect storm of reasons, the first of which was Joe asking me, “Do you have any idea when you’re going to get this working-at-a-nursery thing out of your system. It’s time to start living.” And he was correct — because waking up before the sun to get to the store by 6:00 am, often working alone for six hours, stressing if there wasn’t time to water, or completing unfinished tasks from the previous night was turning my part-time job into a full-time headache.

While there were aspects of the job that irritated me — show me a job where that doesn’t happen — there were huge chunks that I absolutely adored. As I reflect on the past two years and share some of my thoughts, I thought I’d also look back at some photos of the beautiful faces — hose in one hand, camera phone in the other — that greeted me each morning.

All plants are not watered equally

Watering plants isn’t the most glamorous or exciting job to have, but I found many people envious of it. Customers would often wish they could just water, if even for a day — and I would have to agree.

You see, I loved — love — watering. Not only is it one of the most important jobs in the nursery — after all, a nursery with dehydrated plants can’t call itself a nursery — I found it soothing and refreshing. I welcomed the opportunity to meditate about stuff — which is why I found it fascinating that some of my coworkers had no interest in watering!

Some would begin the task and then get bored or distracted and walk away from it; others would aim the water wand above the plants, a technique which wets the leaves for the scorching sun, smashes the flowers, and barely moistens the soil. The trick is to get the wand deep inside the plants so the water actually reaches the soil. Remember, the plants are packed so tightly together that the leaves act as a barrier to the soil. Sometimes, downpours can barely penetrate the canopy!

Not only are plants not watered equally, some have different watering needs. There re those that require water each day, while others can skip a day, and still others — especially in South Florida — benefit from water twice or three times a day. When purchasing a plant, don’t be embarrassed or afraid to inspect the plant for proper watering:

Pick up pots of the same plant and compare the weight. The lighter the pot, the drier it is.
Stick a finger — first knuckle-deep — into the soil. If it’s dried out, it’s in need of water.
If the dirt in the pot has moved away from the sides of the pot, that plant has severely dried out. Any watering at this stage will simply drain around the circumference and never penetrate the root ball.
If possible, try removing the plant from the pot for a visual of how far the water has penetrated the soil. If the bottom is dry or if the plant is easily removed as giant block of cement-like soil, consistent watering is an issue.
Of course, over-watering is just as critical an issue as under-watering. In either case, look for signs of distress: burnt, wilted, browned, or yellowed leaves. By the way, many garden centers will place distressed plants on a TLC rack — a great place to find bargains.

Understanding the layout of the garden center

When customers arrive looking for a full-sun plant, they assume they could be found on the tables sitting in the full sun — and they would be mostly correct. As my 9th grade English teacher once told the class, “Never assume anything, or else you make an ass out of you and me.”

In the case of a box store, the decision of which plants on which tables is one that’s made between the corporate office and the vendors. This way, a customer can walk into any location around the country and find practically the same layout in each store.

For example, Table A is located in a full-sun area, and that table belongs to Vendor A, which supplies an array of full-sun plants and a shade-loving plant. No matter what the gardener in any of us says, that shade plant is going on the full-sun table.

I learned this when I noticed heuchera, a plant that was a partial shade-loving plant in my NY garden, on a full-sun table in South Florida. Not only did the plant require extra water, greater care needed to be taken to keep the water from hitting the leaves once the sun was up.

The bottom line: Read the labels. In my particular store, the plant tags were color-coded: yellow for full sun, orange for partial, lavender for shade. (For South Florida, I would caution customers that full sun in here is a lot stronger than full sun in Maine. Here, even full-sun plants need a break from the sun.)

Look for Part 2 in an upcoming post

This post appears to have violated the unspoken rule of appropriate post length. Oh, well. In any event, look for a Part 2 in a few weeks. Stay cool, hydrated, and safe — and as always, happy gardening.

If You Can’t Stand The Heat. . .

July 18, 2013July 22, 2013 / Kevin / 30 Comments

Simply put, it’s hot outside. Real hot. The kind of hot that tries to sneak into every crevice of the house, that turns blacktop into water, that makes the simplest of tasks — like breathing — a sweaty mess. It’s the kind of hot featured in Body Heat, the crime noir film in which the sultry weather was as much of a star as Kathleen Turner and William Hurt.

I happen to enjoy hot weather, mostly because a) I’m usually cold and b) I’m fortunate to not have to work outside for a living — and thankful for those who must. I, on the other hand, can squeeze in any gardening duties before sunrise or after sunset.

And so each morning, I awake with a song buzzing around my head — and it’s not the cicadas. It’s a classic from Marilyn Monroe:

“We’re havin’ a heat wave, a tropical heat wave. . .”

That’s my cue to begin my primary chore — delivering water to the garden. I’m one of the few people in my neighborhood that does not have a sprinkler system. Why have an entire system to deliver water when I can drag hoses and mobile sprinklers all over the yard, careful to not crush any plants or knock over any pottery along the way? Besides, the old method gives me greater control — and the chance that I might get wet if I have to run through the sprinkler to fine tune my aim.

At least that’s how I approached the heat wave at its start. Since then, I’ve watched the news, and the reporters informed me — in their best end-of-days voices — that this heat wave is the longest one in decades. People are dying. Highways are buckling. Power is failing. Even my local supermarket is conserving energy by turning off large banks of lights. Maybe I need to rethink my summer position.

And with that, my love for extreme heat melted away faster than a Fudgesicle in July. Although the zinnias have held up beautifully (an upcoming “Bloomin’ Update” will celebrate them), the temperatures are starting to take their toll in the garden. Not only is there no night-time relief, there just isn’t enough of me — or water, for that matter — to keep all of my plants sated. Despite my best water brigade efforts, the new grass is burning, the hydrangeas are wilting, and the daylilies are more like half-daylilies. Admire them before noon; they may not make it beyond 3:00.

I also notice that I am eerily alone while I’m outside. My neighbors are absent, although I see their automatic sprinkler systems continuing to operate. I wonder if they’ve adopted a vampire life, emerging after the sun has set. Or have they fled north in search of cooler weather? I hope not, because they’re missing out on some very green lawns.

I shield my eyes from the sun’s glare as I look through the film of ozone that hazes the distance. I’m looking for Rod Serling to appear to let me know that I’ve entered “The Twilight Zone.”

One of my favorite episodes from that series is all about heat. In “The Midnight Sun,” a young woman and an elderly neighbor are trying to hold on as the world, knocked out of its orbit and headed toward the sun, burns up under increasingly heated temperatures. (The kicker is that the earth was knocked away from the sun and the young lady is actually delirious with a very high fever.)

Fortunately, I have someone “The Twilight Zone” characters didn’t have. I have Jim Cantore of The Weather Channel — who is a bit like Rod Serling. Like Rod, if Jim shows up outside your door, you know some weird stuff is about to go down.

In a recent report, Jim explained that the heat wave is the result of an enormous high pressure system stalled over the eastern half of the country, acting like a bubble that was not only heating up, but trapping the heat inside of it — a kind of meteorological Under the Dome, if you will.

Whew, I say to myself, that’s a relief. At least the earth is still in its orbit.

He then finished his report: “This thing is getting bigger!”

A few things, Jim. First, when you say a sentence like that, it sounds like bad dialogue from a b-movie. Second, your tone of voice really doesn’t make me feel calm. I mean, I was feeling pretty good about the earth staying in its orbit, but you’re making this high pressure dome sound like the high pressure dome that ate the world.

Hope for relief came in tonight’s weather forecast, with promises of cooler temperatures by the end of the weekend.

Truthfully, I don’t want cooler temperatures. I don’t want summer to rush away.

Besides, cooler weather will be coming all too soon. It’s called autumn, followed by winter. Speaking of winter, this was the view from my front window a few months ago. It kind of looks like an earth moving away from the sun.

Until then, I’ll happily hydrate, wear light-colored clothing, and hope for the best with my plants. And if Rod Serling or Jim Cantore knocks on my door, I’ll let you know.

Re-Post: Do You Suffer From G-SAD?

July 3, 2012August 7, 2012 / Kevin / 32 Comments

This post first appeared nearly a year ago, and since I am somewhere on a highway on my way to a vacation and faraway from any Internet service , I thought it was quite appropriate to revisit the anxiety that I feel when I have to leave my garden in someone else’s hands. For longtime readers, I apologize for this repeat broadcast; for new readers, I hope you enjoy.

I have done what every therapist and doctor advises people not to do. I have self-diagnosed, but let me first explain.

It’s summertime, and Joe and I are going on vacation for a few days. It’s a chance to relax, to get away from everything, to reconnect, to breathe. In actuality, though, the days leading up to departure mean a growing sense of unease and worry. I become consumed with obsessive thoughts, anxiety, and stress — and none of it comes from the what-to-pack, what-not-to-pack scenario, nor from the airport pat-down, nor from who will mind the dog and the cat, nor from the last-second question, “Did I remember to take my trusted Swiss army knife out of my carry-on?” No. For me, the physical-emotional symptoms stem from leaving my garden and entrusting its care to someone other than myself. I am now calling these symptoms Garden Separation Anxiety Disorder, also known as G-SAD, as in, “Gee, That’s sad.”

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Terracotta Love: Now That’s Amore!

May 23, 2012May 27, 2012 / Kevin / 26 Comments

I’m in love with a terracotta pot. I’m not sure if that’s even possible, but the truth is there is one pot in my collection of which I’m especially fond – and each spring when I remove it from its winter storage, it’s like reuniting with a long lost love. I know its curves and warm tones and textures. I accept all of it, even the irregular sizes of its pockets. Yes, the terracotta pot of my dreams is the three-foot tall strawberry pot. And today is the day that I am going to demonstrate my love for it. It’s planting day.

The pot holds a place of honor in the garden, nestled among ferns and hostas and bleeding hearts. It’s tall enough that it provides not only a focal point, but some vertical color in an area of the garden that is heavy with foliage.

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A Pot To Call My Own

March 24, 2012March 25, 2012 / Kevin / 18 Comments

It seems like only yesterday that I planted these Geraniums, the first of this year’s seeds to be started early — and here they are, all grown up and ready to be moved into individual pots. The truth is I am always caught off guard each year. I know this day has to come – and then all at once, all of the sprouts have their first set of true leaves, an indication that I’ve got a lot of transplanting to do.

Step 1: I moisten a batch of seed starting mix, which is a little lighter and airier than potting soil and so roots do not have to work as hard to develop and grow. Keeping the mixture moist not only creates a damp environment for the transplant, but it also keeps down the dust factor for your lungs. I then fill the cell packs with the mixture. Using a pencil or the tongue depressor plant label, I make some room for the transplant, deep enough so the roots can grow downward.

Step 2: I then ease the seedling from it’s starting pot. This can be a little tricky. I use the plant label as a shovel to help bring out the seedling. In a starting pot that is more densely packed, I usually unpot the whole thing, resting the potless soil and seedlings on the potting bench. I am then able to pry out each individual seedling, working from the perimeter to the middle, without disurbing the roots of the neighboring plants.

Step 3: At this stage, be very careful in how you handle the seedling. I do not hold the plant by its stem or by the first set of true leaves. Everything is still a little delicate — kind of like the soft spot on a baby’s head — and I wouldn’t want to crush any of the developing plant cells. Instead, the only thing I handle are the cotyledon leaves, the “baby leaves,” since these will eventually die as the plant continues to grow.

Step 4: With my plant label “tool,” I place the seedling into it’s new pot. My goal is to help the roots into the hole’s depth, rather than bunching up near the surface. I think this helps the overall health of the plant, especially as it continues to mature and is ultimately planted in the garden. Deeper root development helps to prevent the plant from drying out in arid conditions.

Step 5: Finally, I place the pot in a tray of water for bottom watering. At this stage, I do not want to compact the soil mixture too much with watering from above, since that would hinder healthy root development.

Now that the Geraniums are transplanted, all I have left are Amaranth, Impatiens, Salvia, Candytuft . . . Hmmmm . . . Do you suppose this is why Joe scratches his head in disbelief each year?

Not-So-Wordless Wednesday: That’s A Wrap

November 16, 2011November 25, 2012 / Kevin / 28 Comments

I may be the gardener of the house, but Joe also has his landscape love. One of his greatest loves is palm trees. His absolute fave is Cocos nucifera, the coconut palm. If it were up to him, coconut palms would be growing everywhere. We often joke that he would be to coconut palms what Johnny Appleseed was to apples — only he would be called Joey Coconuts, which does sound a little — alright, a lot — like a character from “The Sopranos.”

Sadly, coconut palms will not grow in our Zone. Nor will most other palms found around the world. So what’s a palm lover to do? About 7 years ago, we purchased a windmill palm, Trachycarpus fortunei to be exact, from Stokes Tropicals. Originally grown in China, the windmill is one of the hardiest of palms, able to tolerate a fairly severe freeze and a light winter snow cover.

But this is Long Island, and winters are unpredictable. Sometimes mild, but in recent years — cold, snowy, and frozen. Although the palm receives full sun, there are steps that we must take — or rather Joe must take, with my assistance — to ensure winter survival.

Bloomin’ Update 5: Hot Colors & Cool Thoughts

July 23, 2011 / Kevin / 8 Comments

: Hot colors in the heat dome.

The newscasters and weather forecasters are having a field day with the heat wave. They’re frying eggs on the pavement and baking cookies in cars and they have a new term, “heat dome,” to describe the blistering weather pattern. The urgency in their voices reminds me of “The Twilight Zone” episode where the Earth is moving closer to the sun. These are the same people, mind you, who whip up winter hysteria when snow is predicted. It seems that no matter what Mother Nature throws at us, she’ll never make everyone happy.

I must admit, though, I am enjoying the heat dome — or as I call it, summer. Yes, it’s hot, and yes, I’m spending lots of time quenching my thirsty plants. For lots of reasons — too many to get into here — I like the warmth. I like the casualness of the season. And I like the time spent in the garden, because the days of the heat dome are numbered.

In honor of this sentiment, I would like to share a few hot colors from around the yard, as well as a few cool thoughts to remind us of what was and what will come.