“Sunk money.” That’s what my husband, Dan, said last year, after I came home from the garden center loaded with flowers to plant in outdoor pots.
I maturely stuck my tongue out and started planting. OK, so putting me in charge of outdoor planting is like putting Dr. Kevorkian in charge of the animal shelter.
When I was done planting, the pots looked great – for about three weeks. By mid-July, they looked as burned out as a beach fire pit the morning after the weenie roast. A neighbor kid confirmed my failure when he asked why we had so many ashtrays around the yard. Before Dan could say something snide, I bought a bunch of fake tulips and stuck them in the pots.
Sunk money was right.
This summer I’m even more determined to have colorful flowerpots that last. I asked Kat Stewart, a real plant person, for help. Kat used to work in a nursery and now has a plant service. She walked around my yard, and peered into the fried planters.
“Where’d I go wrong?” I ask, as we look at the crispy dead foliage inside a half-whiskey barrel planter. Among the remains lay little plant markers, like tombstones in a forgotten graveyard. “Once their little lives held so much promise,” I say in my graveside voice.
“Part of the problem is what you picked.”
She pulls the markers out: viola, lobelia, pansy, foxglove. “These like shade. Here you have full sun.”
“There’s shade at night,” I say.
“If the tag says ‘sun to part shade,’ in the heat of summer, that really means no sun.”
“That’s rude. Why don’t they say so?”
“How often did you water?” she asks.
“Every day. Almost. Except, on days I didn’t. OK, maybe twice a week.”
“Flowers need daily attention.”
“So do my kids, my husband, the dogs, the fish and the horse. I can barely get out the door in the mornings with my hair combed and shoes matched, let alone the plants watered.”
“Plants aren’t for everyone.”
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to turn this into a confessional.”
Two days later, Kat brings a bushel of sun-tolerant plants: geraniums, petunias, zinnias and African daisies. In two hours my pots are brimming with life. She charged $125 for her time plus the cost of the plants, which she bought for me.
“How long will they last?” I ask.
“Until the first frost, if you keep them watered.”
“Oh, I will,” I promise, and threw up my fingers in the Girl Scout pledge. But just in case, I hung onto those fake tulips.
A few days after Kat left, I went to water my planters. Inside the half-whiskey barrel, someone placed a small cardboard marker: “Rest in Peace,” it said. My husband. Am I going to show him.
Marni Jameson is a nationally syndicated columnist who lives in the Denver area. You may contact her through marnijameson.com.
An idiot’s guide to flowerpots
Selection: Don’t just pick plants you like.
Note what kind of sun the plant likes.
Choose annuals (Idiot’s tip these you
pull up at the end of the season) over perennials
(which can last years, if you replant
them in the ground).
Drainage: When preparing a pot, Kat
Stewart puts the empty plastic containers
the plants come in upside down in the bottom
half of the pot, then pours potting soil
over that to fill the top half. This helps
drainage and makes filled pots lighter.
Soil: Get a nutrient-rich soil that feeds
plants after they’re in. Kat mixes 50 percent
Miracle Grow Potting Soil with 50
percent less-expensive potting soil.
Placement: Cram plants in to avoid
skimpy-looking pots.
Water: Check pots daily. If they’re getting
dry, water. If they are dry, soak. In humid
climates, don’t overwater, or roots
will rot. To avoid sun-scorched leaves, water
around the foliage in the early morning
or at dusk.
Fertilizer: Once a month, sprinkle a
handful of slow-release all-purpose plant
food directly on the soil.
