This past weekend, I took advantage of a clearance rack of 25-cent mums and filled an urn with them. The plants were past their prime, root bound and leggy with yellowing leaves, but the blooms were just a few days from popping, and I figured, at a quarter per plant, it was worth the gamble.
It is a gamble, mind you.
My last adventure with clearance plants resulted in enough greenery to deck out every container I’ve ever owned and then some. But, it also brought the unfortunate consequence of becoming a salad bar for the deer who frequent my yard. I’m hoping those antlered rodents don’t bother the mums, but you never know.
Even if they do, I’ve gotten my money’s worth already: a half hour or so browsing the plants and picking colors, another half hour of pulling out dead plants by the root and doing some rearranging on the front porch to make room for the planter, and, finally, another half hour or so re-potting these bronze-yellow mums into their new home.
There’s something about getting your hands in the dirt and touching creation that buries the stress of the day and fertilizes the soul. If you need to work out aggression, the soil can handle it. Stab at it, scoop it, prod it until the frustration subsides. Not enough? Go after the ants. That’s what I did. I discovered a trail near the newly planted mums, and thought, “No. This ain’t gonna happen.” Some Bengal spray and a shaking of ant bait ended that army and added to my sense of satisfaction. After topping off the urn with a stream of clear water, I felt my $3 therapy session was far more effective than any counseling session and far cheaper than a vacation.
I highly recommend it. Rather than wallow (or "waller" as my Bigmama would say) in your troubles or get pitch yourself a pity party, grab a shovel, a handful of plants, a spot on the porch or in the yard, and play in the dirt.
Your sense of satisfaction will grow with every new bloom.
Comments
Post a Comment