Seed catalogs are quite possibly the most stimulating and ultimately depressing thing we get in the mail. For me anyways, for Rick it's a tool catalog or maybe a bull semen catalog (he fantasizes about having Charlois cattle). I simultaneously think almost everything would be fun to grow, then "where would we put it all, could I start that many seeds, *bah* it only grows in Arizona?! Well those are some big, beautiful, will-get-shredded-by-summer-hail leaves after all." This is usually followed by a frown and a recalculation of some sort.
My mom is a landscape architect and also a horticulture major. Yep, eight years of plants under the lady's belt. Most of my life I took our beautiful, fun, simple gardens for granted. I now realize that having plants, flowers, vegetables, and fruit is the exception - not the rule. I learned to plant for textures and colors and smells. I've loved that there was always something with fuzzy leaves to touch, for tiny hands to explore. Planting a garden for people - not just children - to enjoy and really experience is my ultimate goal.
Now, I understand that not everyone will understand this "experience" theory. A garden that is strictly roses, or one of only trimmed hedges and lawn with maybe a few pansies sprinkled in, isn't super-interesting. When you have edible plants scattered throughout your beds, very short and very tall things, different scents, hidden bowls of water or leaves that catch moisture, leaves of all shapes and sizes and textures...these are the things that make me excited about working and visiting a garden. As a child these spaces can be ones of imagination gone wild, spaces that encourage them to live outside as much as possible - not to run in to watch TV.
There are very few pleasures that rank as highly as casually picking something ripe and eating it, incarnate liquid sunshine, whole and dribbling. It's right up there with eating home-raised meat, eggs, and milk.
And this, my friends, is the end of nap-time and therefore blogging time...to be continued!