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Published: August 7, 2008
I've been a gardener for about a dozen years, but it wasn't until we moved to Tampa that things got so out of control. I lost track of what I'd planted where and how long ago, and when I'd last fertilized it all.
The answer, I decided, was to keep a gardening journal - a book where I could record those details, maybe draw a little map of the garden, and collect plant tags and photos.
It worked for a while. A month, maybe.
The thing is, my garden (like all gardens) changes so often, I'd have to sit down every week - at least - to keep the thing up to date. And I'm just not that committed. I'd rather be out there working in the garden than inside filling in my gardening journal.
So now I occasionally jam stuff in there for safekeeping: Photos of my nieces in front of the arbor. A leaflet on how to keep bromeliads alive. (Fat chance!) My first camellia bloom.
But it's more like a junk drawer than a jewelry box. It takes a while to find what I'm looking for when I want it.
When friends visit and ask, "What's that?" or "How long have you had this?" I sometimes have to admit that I just don't know.
And you know what? They seldom seem to care.
Kim Franke-Folstad
Come play in the DIRT at TBO.com, Keyword: Dirt. We provide all the tools.
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