The Dandelion Effect

A painting of a dandelion hangs in my home, its filamentous seeds dispersed along the paper like tiny torpedoes waiting to land. A quiet painting, it commands no attention and hangs above a small piano once used to bang out my daughters weekly lessons. I have a hard time agreeing that dandelions are weeds and admire their resilience and tenacity. Hung in the last three houses I've lived in, it reminds me to bloom where I'm planted, even if I'm somewhere I don't want to be.

'Wishes in the Wind' by Ray Davenport, an artist from Sumter, SC where I used to live. A much better photo can be found at: http://www.raydavenportstudio.com/Closeout/wishes.htm

As a child, the fuzzy, round seed heads were irresistible, and I'd grab them by the handful and blow, never knowing where the seeds would land. As a teacher, I stand before my classes every year and hope the seeds of curiosity I blow towards my students will burrow deep, spread roots, and grow. But as a gardener, I've always gardened alone, cocooned in my garden, scratching for ideas. I've lost track of all the mistakes I've made simply because the only perspective available was my own.

This fall I'll begin the annual Happy Plant Hokey Pokey. One plant comes out while another plant goes in. I've spent the summer keeping notes on the garden and absorbing the knowledge and design genius of my fellow bloggers. I have never met any of you but hear your voices as I redesign my garden. Scale, color, texture, whimsy, ideas explode like fireworks and I find myself standing on my patio watching the garden through eyes wider than they were before. Your successes and failures rumble through my brain as I write and revise the list of changes to be made. Plants I had never considered growing will take the place of others that need to be moved. With every post you published, seeds scattered and grew, and a sense of community developed. What may have begun as a quick photo and caption or just a random thought has blown my way and started to grow. An enormous amount of work lies ahead, but for the first time, I won't be gardening alone.