Balcony garden (Apparently I'm feeling chatty)
I can't remember why now - I imagine it was something about finding projects that make me feel positive about my environment and my life. This year I decided to try to make my balcony garden look... more like something a gardener would make, and less like something a farmer would throw together without knowing anything about pots or flowers. (Because that's what I am - a farmer who learned the practical side of things and not how to make things look nice, or even particularly tidy. Duct tape, milk jugs and Gorilla Glue, that's my heritage.)
I have a pretty book on container gardening. I had previously read this book not aspirationally, but dreamily. Imagine a trailer park resident flipping through a glossy home decor magazine in which the individual rooms cost more in furnishings and professional designers' fees than her house is worth. Like that. But this time I looked through it for some general ideas on what styles of flowers to put together into a pot to make one of those beautiful, fluffy, colorful collections that you see in hanging pots on touristy streets of cute towns.
I surveyed my materials, made a list of what I wanted, went to a nursery and spent $40 (gulp*) on herbs, potted starter plants, and seeds. On Saturday I spent a couple of hours potting and cleaning up my balcony a bit. Now I have two huge pots of marigolds and curly parsley, with a tomato in the middle of each pot. (One Patio variety and one Arkansas Traveler - not that I expect the latter to produce much, but it's still a pretty plant.) I have two medium-large pots with alyssum, plus coleus and wildflower seeds planted. And I have one pot with a shasta daisy, a pincushion flower, and some grey-green feathery foliage. I hope these things work! They could be really pretty once they grow up and fill out and bloom, or they could just die, or they could just not look very nice. I have northern exposure, so I bought all partial-shade plants. They really only get morning sun, even in the middle of summer.
I always enjoy my flowers, because I tend to focus on little details at one time (hence all the macro and close-up photos, I suppose). So even if the balcony as a whole just looks kind of crowded and shabby, and none of the plants are particularly beautiful, if parts of the plant are beautiful, that's what I see. A couple of blooms, a drop of water trapped where three leaves met against a stem, and I'm happy. So it's not like I'll be devastated if my investment doesn't make my balcony look like a magazine picture.
Hmm, reading back over that, it sounds a little like I'm trying to "better myself"** somehow - make a more Martha Stewart-approved garden space, or something. It's really about challenging myself a little and making something I'll enjoy. I will never be able to make my home look like anything in a glossy magazine. I'm okay with that.
Things that came from the nursery
Things that came up volunteer and I encouraged
(In away, he's a "volunteer" too, since he was once a stray kitten.)
* I could have gotten these plants for about 30% less at Wal-Mart's garden center, but there I wouldn't have had a sweet old man in a checked shirt and ballcap writing me a ticket by hand, or a kind, efficient cashier calling me "honey" and "sugar" while she processed my credit card with an old-fashioned imprint machine. And I wouldn't have gotten to walk through a dreamland of greenery with the sun dimmed by translucent tarps.
** Am I the only person who sees the phrase "better myself" and thinks of the Motown girl group chorus from Little Shop of Horrors, "Better ourselves? Better ourselves? Mister, when you from Skid Row, ain't no such thing." ...and then the best musical number of the whole production, "Downtown." Anybody?
I have a pretty book on container gardening. I had previously read this book not aspirationally, but dreamily. Imagine a trailer park resident flipping through a glossy home decor magazine in which the individual rooms cost more in furnishings and professional designers' fees than her house is worth. Like that. But this time I looked through it for some general ideas on what styles of flowers to put together into a pot to make one of those beautiful, fluffy, colorful collections that you see in hanging pots on touristy streets of cute towns.
I surveyed my materials, made a list of what I wanted, went to a nursery and spent $40 (gulp*) on herbs, potted starter plants, and seeds. On Saturday I spent a couple of hours potting and cleaning up my balcony a bit. Now I have two huge pots of marigolds and curly parsley, with a tomato in the middle of each pot. (One Patio variety and one Arkansas Traveler - not that I expect the latter to produce much, but it's still a pretty plant.) I have two medium-large pots with alyssum, plus coleus and wildflower seeds planted. And I have one pot with a shasta daisy, a pincushion flower, and some grey-green feathery foliage. I hope these things work! They could be really pretty once they grow up and fill out and bloom, or they could just die, or they could just not look very nice. I have northern exposure, so I bought all partial-shade plants. They really only get morning sun, even in the middle of summer.
I always enjoy my flowers, because I tend to focus on little details at one time (hence all the macro and close-up photos, I suppose). So even if the balcony as a whole just looks kind of crowded and shabby, and none of the plants are particularly beautiful, if parts of the plant are beautiful, that's what I see. A couple of blooms, a drop of water trapped where three leaves met against a stem, and I'm happy. So it's not like I'll be devastated if my investment doesn't make my balcony look like a magazine picture.
Hmm, reading back over that, it sounds a little like I'm trying to "better myself"** somehow - make a more Martha Stewart-approved garden space, or something. It's really about challenging myself a little and making something I'll enjoy. I will never be able to make my home look like anything in a glossy magazine. I'm okay with that.
Things that came from the nursery
Things that came up volunteer and I encouraged
(In away, he's a "volunteer" too, since he was once a stray kitten.)
* I could have gotten these plants for about 30% less at Wal-Mart's garden center, but there I wouldn't have had a sweet old man in a checked shirt and ballcap writing me a ticket by hand, or a kind, efficient cashier calling me "honey" and "sugar" while she processed my credit card with an old-fashioned imprint machine. And I wouldn't have gotten to walk through a dreamland of greenery with the sun dimmed by translucent tarps.
** Am I the only person who sees the phrase "better myself" and thinks of the Motown girl group chorus from Little Shop of Horrors, "Better ourselves? Better ourselves? Mister, when you from Skid Row, ain't no such thing." ...and then the best musical number of the whole production, "Downtown." Anybody?