Give me a glass of wine, and I might natter on about how discovering the pleasure of gardening has been all about the act of creation for the sake of beauty and nothing else. No prosaic utility -- no food to eat, nothing to sell -- just pleasure for pleasure.
Give me two glasses of wine and I might turn to the real story -- pride and jealousy. When I scan my neighborhood gardens (usually from my car! what does that say?) my most common feeling is one of proud superiority. How many cistus purpurea and euryops does San Francisco really need? I wouldn't be caught dead planting those. They aren't unattractive -- just common.
But worse is jealousy. The magnificent arching bougainvillea (mine is scorched and sagging). Perfect standard roses covered with blooms. The sweet-smelling block of 15th Ave lined with prunus trees. Gorgeous expanses of common enough plants, just done so well.
And then there's Briggs' compost.
Sigh.
Posted by rich at March 27, 2003 9:27 AM