One of the activities planned for Memorial Day was a trip to The Vagary’s twice-a-summer plant sale. Mary, who we visited over the holiday weekend, said it was a must-do, with plants available for $1.25 apiece.
Steve and I had recently added marigolds to the garden, so we thought the plant sale might be a good place to get some other helpful flowers, although, truth be told, we had no idea what those might be. We figured Mary or her friend Linda, who was also attending the plant sale, or maybe even one of the helpful Vagary staff folks could illuminate the subject for us.
Also, we thought some flowers might serve as a decent border. We hear gardeners like borders, and neatness, and organization, and our little plot of earth is scattered and a tad bit asymmetrical.
I asked Mary what she thought might be good plants to locate around the vegetables, and she wasn’t sure. She thought for a minute, then said, “But you know, the plants at the sale are really going to be perennials.”
Perennials. That means something that must be kept alive for years. I’ve read the other blogs; I know there’s dividing and placement and shade and sun and all kinds of rules to keep in mind. Annuals, with their brief life span and cheaper price, seem so much less of a commitment. I am, after all, the person who wanted to rely on pots.
“They’ll also have herbs,” Mary said. “Lots of herbs.”
Steve stayed behind at Mary and Doug’s house while we struck out toward The Vagary, but just before we walked out the door, he said, “Remember, Genie, perennials. Not annuals. Perennials. We’re renters.”
“Herbs,” I said. “I was already planning to get basil and parsley, remember?”
“By the way,” I said. “Can I borrow $20?”