Mayapple bud, viewed at garden fairy angle.

I’ve been wandering around the garden this spring looking around to see if all the plants I planted last year, and all the years before last year, are all present and accounted for.

I think some are missing.

I’m not quite sure which ones, though, as I’ve entered a phase of gardening called “Denial of Poor Memory”.  I am confident when I plant something I will, of course, remember forever not only that I planted it, but what its name is.

I refuse to accept any evidence to the contrary.

Where were we?

Oh, yes, missing plants.  Where do plants go when they disappear from my garden? From your garden?

They go to plant therapy, of course.

I recently stumbled upon a therapy session of several plants which have turned up missing from my garden.  Let’s listen in as the great Dr. Hortfreud lets each plant talk.

“What was she thinking? My label clearly said I needed well-drained soil. I woke up with my roots in a veritable swamp. I had to leave or I would have drowned.”

“Tell me about it. I was supposed to get full sun. Tell me, how is a plant supposed to get full sun in the shade of a maple tree.  It’s not possible.”

“Well at least you all left on your own. We were perfectly content, spreading out, seeding ourselves all over the place, like we do, and like she knew we would do.  Then, bam!  We found ourselves in the compost pile. It was awful. Disgusting. Stuff started crawling all over us, nibbling on our leaves. We couldn’t stay for that.”

“Ha! You think that’s bad.  She planted us in Plopper’s Field and we felt ignored.  She never looked our way again. Not once. We are just too pretty to stay where we aren’t loved and appreciated.”

“Such a sad lot you are.  What about us bulbs? We bloom like crazy in the spring, then she comes along and cuts our foliage back. Which is fine. We don’t really like hot summers, but then in the fall, she comes along with that trowel of hers and nearly cuts our bulbs in half trying to add more bulbs. Crazy, she’s crazy, I tell you.”

“Well, try being her lawn. She’s cutting us off every three or four days. How is a plant supposed to seed under those conditions? We are too big to move. We are showing her, though, we are actually creeping into the flower beds, on purpose.”

“Really, the rest of you have nothing to complain about. She swooned over us at the garden center, bought us, talked all nice and sweet to us, and then left us in our nursery containers on the back patio. We were begging for water. Begging to be planted. We all felt so used. We finally just left. It wasn’t healthy for us to stay.”

And there was more talk. But you get the idea.  Be kind to your plants. Read their labels and give them a good spot in your garden for their needs and then pay attention to them.

Otherwise, they head off to plant therapy and talk about YOU.