When new lavender plants began sprouting last summer in the soil underneath my roses and yellow trumpet-flower daturas and in pots of red geraniums, I thought seeds had been dropped from another garden by the birds that spend each morning and evening here. As more and more tiny lavender plants sprouted though late summer into fall, I realized these starts were coming from my own lavender plants, as big as bushes in the maseta garden. Id been less than totally consistent about deadheading the purple blossoms, and as the flowers dried, they released the seed which blew into other pots and germinated. Ive promised some small second-generation lavender plants from my garden to a couple of friends here in town. Im waiting another month or so for the plants to grow to at least a reputable gift-giving size. There is something special about passing on plants from my own garden. In Portland, Oregon, that area of lush perennial gardens, I did this every spring and fall. A fellow writer from the area, Dennis Stovall, and I organized two fall events called the Perennial and Pie exchange--once at he and Linny Stovalls gorgeous country place outside of Portland, and once in my back yard. The pie part of the exchange is as simple as it sounds. The idea of a part of my garden growing in someone elses clay maseta intrigues me. Here I give my spares to friends, offered by invitation. I imagine they will think of me every time they water those plants; every time they pick a bunch of sweet-smelling lavender. A little part of what I have nurtured and loved will have, I hope, traveled into their lives.
Posted on: Sun, 30 Mar 2014 17:48:13 +0000
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