It's All About Next Year

That was one of our favorite sayings at Loomis Creek, and one I thought of this week when I checked these little Helleborus foetidus seedlings perking along in my nursery bed (thanks Betty!).

The expression sums up the almost pathological optimism of gardeners everywhere, something that should perhaps be studied by psychologists or geneticists. Maybe they could isolate a DNA sequence that compels us, in spite of yearly failures and frustrations, to look ahead with such hope.

Yes, it's all about next year. Next year, I'm going to get the Dahlias planted well before Memorial Day. Next year, that Magnolia is finally going to put on a decent display. Next year, I'll limit myself to a reasonable number of tomato varieties. Next year, I promise myself I'm going to weed out all the Nicotiana seedlings, except for five really good plants. And so on and so on.

Now that everything's blanketed under clean new snow, we have a respite from all the demanding fall tasks. We can turn our thoughts to the next growing season, and while this year's triumphs and disappointments are still fresh, begin making lists and plans for 2015. For gardeners, the obsession never ends.

I've kept a garden journal for more than twenty years now, and although my entries are somewhat sporadic, it's gratifying to read back over ideas and goals I recorded in years past, many of them realized but some long forgotten. And in my toolshed there's a toolbox full of labels from plants that have died. I call it my "Humility Box". After almost fifty years as a gardener, I still kill a lot of plants.

Now I'm busy getting in all the spring orders for perennials, annuals and tropicals for Pondside. We'll have lots of old favorites and standard varieties again, but as always, some new and exciting selections for all of us to try. We're also expanding our sales area with a new shade structure and a few display gardens where we can show off some of the great plants we sell, grown to their full potential. 

All of us at Pondside are very grateful for your patronage, and wish our customers a wonderful holiday season and a restful dormant period. We look forward to seeing you again... next year!

My Rosemary Willow (Salix eleagnos) hadn't lost all its leaves when we got the wet, sticky snow on Thanksgiving Eve, creating this cool fishbone pattern on the foliage.