Fear The N. G.

Written by Lynn Pitts

How many of you live with a N.G.? That’s “Non-Gardener” to those of us who till and toil alone. The late Mr. P was, to be honest, an N.G. Oh sure, he gifted me with a dozen pots of lovely white ‘Pascali’ roses early in our courtship. This was because I’d told him how much I loved white roses. After buying bouquets and arrangements of them from a florist, he cleverly worked out that it would be easier on his wallet if he gave his gardening girlfriend, moi, the actual plants and I could grow ‘n cut them myself! His antipathy for gardening became more evident after marriage; especially after I came home from a two-week trip to visit my sister. A dear friend had left a pot of chrysanthemums by our front door. Apparently the drooping leaves had not sufficiently signaled the plant’s need for water and it just sat there like dried tumbleweed.

“I didn’t see it,” he said, although he had to step around it daily to reach our mailbox. Actually, I believed him since N.G. spouses have this unique ability not to see some things, especially weeds.

After that, Mr. P was not called upon to do anything involving gardening until we moved to Bakersfield. The yard was a total disaster.

I begged Mr. P for help digging and he started out willingly. What neither of us counted on were the roots from hell. It was a horrid job, reclaiming the garden beds, and enough to put almost anyone off gardening. It certainly had that effect on Mr. P. From that day, all gardening instincts in him, if there had been any, simply shriveled. Of course, I carried on and, using my trusty mattock, eventually won the War of the Roots.

Then, suddenly, one day, something stirred and he started helping me water. Oh, Happy Day! Oh, Be Still My Heart! It was only my pots, but it was a huge help. Was this the N.G. I’d married? So, if I have any advice on getting an N.G. spouse or significant other to help in the garden, it’s this:

• Forget the Latin names. There are just five kinds of plants to an N.G.: daisies, poppies, roses, geraniums, and every thing else.

• Do not start him or her on digging, hauling, or weeding.

There is a fine line between help and chores. Watering pots is good.

• Take out lawn in incremental steps.

Non-gardeners get very nervous when they see a shrinking lawn. They have been indoctrinated somehow that lawns are patriotic, like apple pies.

• Do not, under any circumstances, put pruners or loppers or other cutting devices in the hands of an N.G. This is one activity he or she will take right to, and keep taking to. It is hard to stop these people from committing a chain-saw massacre.

I know from whence I speak. I came home from shopping years ago in Los Angeles to find Mr. P sitting in the backyard enjoying a tall cold one. I said, “What have you been up to today?”

Puffing up with pride, Mr. P said, “I pruned your Bougainvillea!” Turning my head slowly toward my pride and joy, “The Big Wall of Pink Bougainvillea,” I saw a short stump at ground level. He must have noticed my horrified expression and assured me, “It’ll grow back.” Not in my lifetime, I thought, and it hasn’t.

• Invite suggestions and encourage the N.G. to enter into the gardening spirit. When laying out my raised bed garden (which Mr. P built to give credit where it’s due), he volunteered that, as a boy, he used to grow tomatoes. That’s great, said I; did you have any planting tricks? He replied, “My friend, Bryant, and I used to throw rotten tomatoes at my three sisters in the backyard. Each year the splattered seeds grew into tomato plants.”

Changing the subject, I asked if there was something special Mr. P wanted me to plant other than vegetables (which never touched his lips anyhow). He said he’d like me to plant the little French strawberries we’d had at Scott’s restaurant in London. I remembered these berries were very small but super sweet. Not seeing any of these particular plants in the local nurseries, ultimately I ended up buying a few six packs of ‘Sequoia’ strawberry plants. They did OK once I learned to use netting for the voracious birds and bait to deter the snails. Mr. P would check on them in the evening while we had our drinks on the patio. He’d munch on one while wistfully mentioning that they weren’t as good as the French berries at Scott’s and he was right, they weren’t. Well, he died a year later and the strawberry planting became water under the bridge as they say. I wish now I’d been more persistent in researching the French strawberries as it would’ve brought my N.G. extra pleasure.

However, 2011 is going to be the year I sail into a new berry world. I’m planting Fraise du Bois (Alpine strawberries) from seed! Did you know strawberries are the quickest and easiest small fruit crop you can grow? I’ve ordered my seeds from a Northern California seed company (swallowtailgardenseeds.com). The big trick is to put the seeds in a zip lock bag in the freezer for three to four weeks before planting. The variety I’ve purchased is the most famous, ‘Alexandria,’ and cost only $2.50 for 200 seeds. I‘m planting them in hanging containers filled with an acidic soil mix in partial to full shade. Here’s another secret I’ve learned: if you don’t eat them all, Alpine strawberries will self-propagate. Each teeny tiny berry has scores of teeny tiny seeds. These berries do not have runners like their larger cousins. Because Alpine strawberries are not readily available in stores, it’s well worth growing the plants. The familiar terracotta strawberry jars, with potting holes at two or three levels are another potting choice. Remember to add a bottom layer of gravel for drainage and acidic soil mix. If the bag says, “good for acid-loving plants,” buy it. The way I’ll be planting my strawberry seeds will be to mix the seeds with sand and sprinkle the mixture on top of the dampened acid soil. Then, I’ll lightly tamp down with the flat of my hand and very lightly mist with a spray bottle as it dries out. Germination should start within a week or so.

There’s an old saying from the early 1600s about strawberries that goes: “Doubtless God could have made a better berry, but doubtless God never did.” Maybe this will be the nudge your N.G. needs to join you in the garden.

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Article appeared in our 27-6 Issue - February 2011