I think my love for growing things must be genetic. My brother, Dan, is an avid horticulturalist, the most “learned” of my family. He lives in urban Philadelphia and is into native landscaping. Volunteers at the local botanic garden. Lectures at garden shows and other horticultural associations, whoever will listen. What’s more, he won an award for his backyard which he proudly displays! Very cool.
Me, though, I’m a neophyte. I buy new plants on a whim, plant them wherever I have room, and then cross my fingers to see how they do. Some have fared extremely well and I’ve had them for years and years and they still look beautiful. Others have fizzled out much too soon. But even that has an upside — I get to go out and buy something new and different to try!
So I’m learning. What I really love is discovering the many phases of growth some of these South Florida, “SoFlo,” plants and trees go through. During the height of the growing season (really it’s a year-long event down here in Miami), I wake up each morning and venture out to see what’s new with some of my favorite plants. It really is quite amazing and I never cease to delight in the changes they go through. I can’t wait to share those photos.
My dad was probably my biggest influence, however, and where I got the gardening bug. For me, it’s more about discovering the wonder and beauty of all things growing. I’m still struggling to conquer the “why” and “how” and “what” of gardening. I told you, I’m a neophyte.
My dad lived on the West Coast of Florida and loved planting and watching things grow. “Tinkering” or “fiddling” around the yard is really more what he did. Things really grow like crazy in this climate and it’s awesome to watch.
So when my dad died in 1996, rather than scattering his ashes in the ocean, I decided to honor his life by planting a tree over his ashes. A coconut palm. I figured he’d like that.
It’s grown now to over 40 feet, slightly bowed as coconut palms are wont to do. We get lots of coconuts but they’re much too high for us to gather. I let the local coconut hunters have them. They come by every once in a while in their beat up pickup truck, hauling a giant ladder and a thick, over-sized pillow. The one with the machete climbs the ladder. The one with the pillow waits to collect the fruit. Whack! Plumf. Plop. Whack. Plumf. Plumf. Plop. Can you imagine!
Maybe I should have titled this “For the Love of George.”
sofloflora 