The Accidental Gardener

I am an accidental gardener. By “accidental” I mean that I didn’t plan to be a gardener. It just sort of happened. It happened because I am a sucker for nature’s beauty – especially in the form of flowers.

So, when my husband and I moved into a new house eight years ago I bought a few annuals to fill the space where the builder’s winter flowers had been. Then, I decided I didn’t like the arrangement the builder had created, which led to ripping out shrubs, flowers, etc. After I tackled the front yard, I moved onto the back. The back needed perennials. After all, I didn’t want to be planting a jillion annuals every year back there. Then, I realized that not all perennials are created equal. This led to the constant roaming of local nurseries. The next thing I knew I was gardening.

I have to confess, it came as a surprise – being called a gardener. Four years ago when my husband’s relatives were in town visiting, his aunt looked at my yard and said, “Julie, you’re a gardener!” Say what?

I denied it at first. “No,” I told her. “I just like plants.”

“Yes! You’re a gardener!”

Then, I looked around and decided she might be right.

I still didn’t like my landscape creation. It still needed tweaking. Heck, it is four years later and my yard still needs major tweaking – maybe even an overhaul! (But, hey, I’ve discovered that all gardeners feel this way and that’s why we’re always puttering in the garden.)

So, I have now accepted the label. I am a gardener. I may gripe about it, I may think I’m crazy sometimes, but there is nothing like sitting amidst the beauty of nature. So, here I am, forever, an accidental gardener.