Looking in all the wrong areas

Because every year I seem to miss that fine line between the end of winter bursting into a green and fragrant spring, this year I gave myself a daily project on focusing on the trees changing in front of my balcony. In March, they were two spindly soldiers standing side by side, their many bare arms outstretched to the sun like tentacles on an octopus, eagerly awaiting the signal to start blooming and growing.



I went out on the balcony every day- okay, not everyday; there were some days I forgot, and when I went out west there was a week I didn't photograph them; upon my return, I got complacent and apathetic about my task because their growth seemed so painstakingly slow there didn't seem to be much point in going out every day. But I watched those two lonely souls eagerly and intently, almost trying to telepathically will them to expose their buds to the warmer weather that finally seemed to settle in on the city.

Well, it was to the detriment of all the other trees in my neighbourhood that I once again missed that oh-so-short explosion of greenery that marks a seasonal change when bulbed perennials poke their pointy heads through the earth and trees grow leafy Afros like rapidly-dividing Chia pets. Yup, again it passed me by. And why? Because I narrowed my focus so thinly that I didn't focus on the bigger picture and that was where all the changes were taking place.

On the flip side, my lens for observation at work is so big, taking in so much, that I'm getting a little overwhelmed at all the plants and their growth. Each day when I'm on the floor, I'm trying to mentally keep track of how to pair plants that'd go together in terms of colour, size, texture, or some combination of the three. I had a woman yesterday who was looking for something with which to edge her garden (she'd been looking at Artemisia Silver Mound, a wonderfully soft and tufty plant) that when she asked me for other options, my brain immediately froze. Trying to cover my short-circuiting mind, I said, 'Well, the possibilities you have at this time of year are endless. It all depends on how high and how wide you want the plant to be, how many years investment in it you're willing to make, and what you want to match it to in your garden.' She seemed okay with that answer, so we strolled around the department and I explained the few facts about the dozen or so plants I'd learned by now. It still makes me nervous, people approaching me and asking me for advice on how to plant their gardens or containers because even after all I've learned, I know that they only have to hit upon a certain area that's a much easier target than Battle Ship to trip me up.

Like, yesterday I learned that Gardenias are annuals, and Rudbeckias are commonly referred to as Black-Eyed Susans. Go figure.