All epics are the same – a singular quest. Whether it’s a Golden Fleece or Dulcina’s honor, it matters little. There are arduous tests of intellect, strength and cunning. A decade-long journey home doesn’t hurt and insures loads of adventures. Throw in a revelation of a fatal flaw or two, and you’re good to go.
My quest was no different: shade plants that needed little water. I knew it would be hard; that few plants could compete with Maple roots, and I should just settle for mulch. But I had to know if it was possible.
My first stop was to collect my Sancho Panza, Patty. She’s up for anything. We stopped to gather an ample amount of supplies. Patty filled up the gas tank while I loaded up on staples for our daunting journey – chocolate, water and gum. We opened the sunroof, inserted a Dean Martin CD and headed out. We wandered from nursery to nursery with little encouragement from salespeople. But we knew as long as our blood sugar didn’t drop, our courage and civility would be undeterred.
We succumbed to the smell of fresh bread and took a side trip to a bakery. That naturally lead to an impromptu picnic. Patty was ready to chuck her corporate job and go to work at the first nursery that would take her. It took all of my powers to persuade her to complete our journey.
I suggested Patty plug her ears with gum as we approached the priciest of the nurseries. I tried to keep her lashed down to the seat with her seatbelt, but the siren call of White Flower Farm lured us into the packed parking lot. Patty was in search of a groundcover. I was in search of shrubs, since I had nothing beneath my trees, except that giant sucking sound of the Maples taking their first crack at all the nutrients.
We started with Patty's quest: groundcover. Discerning gardener that she is, Patty snatched up everything that looked like it would work. She had already unraveled her metaphorical shawl by ripping up everything in her garden.
She was also eyeing several other plants, but they would have blown her budget, so she held off. We were after all at the Neiman Marcus of nurseries. Or, as my husband calls it, "Needless Markup." But Patty wanted to break up the monotony of the low groundcover with some height, which brought us to a variety of Hellebores. We were smitten.
I snagged a few Beauty Berry bushes with their deep purple berry and this claim: low maintenance. Since I am now in the high-maintenance years, what with the hours spent coloring my hair and plucking the unwanted hair that appears everywhere but my head, I figure my plants should be low maintenance, even if I’m not.
Satisfied, we headed home with enough energy left to rail about our own windmills: husbands that ask us to find things for them.