And so I told Steve’s Mom about your cool idea, and she got all excited, and we went in search of plants and pots and something to hold the whole thing up.
And we found plants — a pink Gypsy Rose, a six-pack of blue Browellia and a white Bacopa — all selected to coordinate by color and just by general interest and height differential. And we found some terracotta pots that we liked. And we found a curlicue stake that just seemed more perfect than anything.
I threaded the pots down the swirly stake. I filled them carefully with potting soil and mushroom compost. I thrilled myself with the whole deal because really, people, I am not one of those girls who does garden projects. I mean, I’m the girl with the edgeless bulb bed. I am the garden equivalent of the girl who throws things against the wall to see what sticks.
Steve’s Mom served as Official Inadvertent Photographer during the tipsy pot assembly process, which attracted the attention of the grandfather of a girl who I think lives next door, possibly with her boyfriend. They were all out in the yard for a graduation party, and the grandfather wandered over to see what we were doing.
Oh yeah, oh yeah, I brought Tipsy Pots to Iowa. I’m like a pioneer, only a pioneer who copies other people.
The grandfather and Mary Beth and I chatted about graduations and Tipsy Pots and The Beautiful Day, and then he wandered back to the barbecue.
And then, the next day, the Tipsy Pots fell. Right over. I went to water them, and I just barely touched one of the pots, and the three collapsed into each other like they had imploded. The collapse was caused by a combination of factors, the most prominent of which were as follows:
- Heavy pots.
- Weak stake.
I unthreaded them – and, I should tell you, those three words do not even describe the level of hysteria that occurred when the collapse happened – and added the three pots, individually, to the herb garden collective in the corner of the sidewalk.
I am not saying I won’t try Tipsy Pots again. I’m just saying that, this year, they weren’t so successful.
Photo credits: Mary Beth Bishop