Simply Lou: Bloom Where You Are Planted

article and illustrations by LOU DAVENPORT

It is downright uplifting to know that spring is just around the corner. Although it has not necessarily been what one would call a “hard” winter, it has been a dreary, gray, and rainy one. Cold and rainy, in my opinion, is just as hard as when it is 100 degrees in the shade come summer. But, it is our choice to live in Louisiana, and while I really cannot see myself living anywhere else, I guess we just have to learn to live with our “bi-polar” weather. As I write this, the sun is shining and the temperature is in the 70’s. I want to be outside basking in it, but this column calls, and I am going to answer. Hopefully this will be a column you enjoy reading, and maybe you’ll even learn a few things… and possibly get a laugh or two out of it as well.

I have always loved playing in the dirt. For as long as I can remember, I liked to dig in it, get dirty, add water and get muddy in it. There’s something about getting my hands in dirt that is a downright spiritual experience to me. When I was little, a spoon was my tool of choice. My grandmother, Lily, was not happy with my using the spoons in our kitchen. She considered herself the “Guardian of the Spoons,” and took that job a little too seriously. I’d slip around when I hoped she was not looking, and swipe a big tablespoon out of the drawer, and then make a beeline out the front door. I think that woman had eyes in the back of her head because she usually caught me, and then I caught the wrath. Sometimes, I would get a spoon just to aggravate her. It seemed the more she yelled at me, “You better bring that spoon back in here when you get through making your mud pies, young lady,” the more compelled I felt to leave them outside. I’ve often wondered how many tablespoons would be found if that area under the old Sycamore tree where I grew up was excavated. Maybe hundreds of years from now, an archeologist will have a dig in Bastrop, Louisiana, and find those precious kitchen spoons. They’ll never know the story of that sneaky kid and her mean grandmother in a crazy competition over kitchen spoons!

From kitchen tablespoons, I graduated to a trowel for digging in flower beds. My first home was in Aberdeen, Mississippi, and I did not have much dirt to work with. My “good husband” planted a garden in our backyard. He got all into the agricultural side of it, while I was the “flower girl.” The only area I had to work with was a small patch of dirt under an unusual tree. I later came to learn that it was an Anise Tree. The pods that formed each year smelled amazing. While my little flower bed was just so-so, that was all right with me. I ordered Carolyn and Adam a pile of red dirt to play in. We had so much fun building roads, and playing cars, and I taught them both how to build “frog houses.” Those require you to put your hand down flat, cover it with dirt, (and don’t forget to pat it down), and then slowly slide your hand out. It’s a FROG HOUSE! Although we never saw any frogs make use of the real estate we made for them, we sure had fun doing it!

(Laundry tip: Getting red dirt out of your and your children’s clothes is not an easy task. The stains from red dirt never fully go away. So, be sure to wear your old “play clothes,” and you’ll be good to go)

Fast forward to Vicksburg, Mississippi, were I finally had a yard with plenty of places to dig. I even upgraded to a small shovel, even though to this day, I do not claim to be much of a great “shoveler.” We lived on a lake, had a patio, a large deck, and planting beds in the front and side yards. I thought I was in heaven. The kids had woods to explore, and a place to build forts. Being on a fly way, we saw so many species of birds. A Great Blue Heron lived in our back yard. There was a funny little Green Heron, along with a Belted Kingfisher that would swing by to fish most days. Oh, how I loved our home in Vicksburg so much. It was such a great place to raise my kids, and grow just about anything.

I landscaped my front yard the best I could. One year, I over fertilized some Moonshot Marigolds, and those things were so big they looked like mutants! I discovered yellow lantana, and those became my foundation plantings. The one bed I was the most proud of was the side bed. I had found a strip of untouched woods that had wild plants everywhere. The woods were soon to become a subdivision, and I KNEW I had to get ahead of those developers to rescue some of those endangered wild plants.

I slipped in there with my trusty trowel, and got a Jack-in-the-Pulpit, several May Apples (or mandrakes), and a really special plant called a Golden Dragon. I planted them on the side of my house, and watched as they got bigger and better every year. Sadly, I had to leave them behind when I sold my house after Larry died. It was hard leaving our house, my plants, and all that “dirt” behind, but sometimes, you gotta do what you gotta do. I still wonder if the new owners knew what all they had in those beds.

When I moved from Vicksburg, I came to Monroe, Louisiana. I brought several of my plants that were in pots with me. I rented a nice house, and while I couldn’t really dig in the owner’s “dirt,” I still had my plants.

Next move I made was to “Mister’s” house. He is a landscaper, and the old saying, “a cobbler’s children have no shoes,” was true. He did not have much planted in his yard except some old foundation plantings he had done years ago. I saw lots of potential in that yard, and again, all I wanted was some dirt. He built some curved beds around the house that had irrigation, and I filled them with purple Wave Petunias. They were spectacular! I worked so hard digging holes and planting plants. I would plant anything he had left over from his landscaping jobs because I thought every plant deserved a chance to grow. That yard was so beautiful, even if I did do most of the work myself. I dug holes, and planted so many Daffodils until I thought I’d turn into a daffodil. Now, they are still there and I’m not. I do hope they are still “showing off” though.

I eventually moved back to Monroe. This time I rented a house with a yard that left a lot to be desired. The front bed was full of briars. They were the mean ones too, and I never got rid of them all. The back yard had lots of trees, so that meant a lot of shade, and very little grass. That also meant a lot of limbs to pick up….all the time. But, I got to work. This time, “dirt” really was therapy, and it helped me to get over a broken marriage. There is something about the act of digging that can take your mind to places that are better than dwelling on sadness.

This is the yard I worked in the most. I transplanted Liriope and used it to create little “areas” in my garden. I used some old chunks of concrete I found to create little “pocket gardens” and planted hostas in them. I added some “garden art” to the whole thing, and before long, my little piece of ground turned into something really grand. Last but definitely not least, I planted a “Just Joey” rose out in the front yard that was a gift from my cousin, Judi. Ms. Adele Ransom had recommended it, so you best believe it is special!

I recently moved from my house into an apartment. I have a covered patio that gets morning sun. The front has enough room for more plants. I dug many of my plants up (again), and brought them with me for yet another garden. Right now, some Cast Iron Lilies are happy in a tall pot, and all my calla lilies are waiting for planting in bigger containers. I’ve got some red honeysuckle, ivy, and some liriope, and a couple of happy houseplants. Best of all, I have nearly 50 cuttings from my “Just Joey” rose, and they are doing okay. I’m happy to say my garden will live on in this way, and we’re all “blooming where we’re planted!”