I just have to get one of those. And one of this-or-that. And before you know it I have a bunch of this-or-that’s and some more of those. Such is the sad fate of a plant addict.

The worry is, I often buy plants before having any idea where they’re going in the garden. I don’t recommend this for others, but it all works out in the end for me I guess. Eventually a home is found for everybody.

I can’t look through a gardening magazine or plant catalog, or tour a nursery or garden without getting a hankering for something. As generally is true of addiction, nothing seems to stand in the way of adding the newest or oldest, or one that’s related to another that I’m fond of.

I have developed a number of collections with probably no end in sight. I have more Japanese maples than I care to count, and dogwoods, magnolias, redbuds, crape myrtles, hollies, cryptomerias, spruce, azaleas, bamboos, nandinas, mahonias, camellias, ferns, clematis, pieris, hydrangeas, and viburnums. And then there are maybe a hundred or so varieties of hosta out there somewhere. I used to have most plants labeled, but those are long gone and I fear I’ve forgotten the names of many. The agave, elephant ears, and banana collections on the deck and patios are expanding nicely, though I have run through decorative pots and must now plant many in the ground for the summer.

Those who have followed my tragic tale through prior posts will not be shocked to hear that the only stumbling block preventing the remaining lawn from being turned to garden is the property manager, also affectionately referred to as the Wife. Only her devotion to this task allows sufficient budget for food and shelter.  

My appeal to you is to have a plan, some guidance that will lead you in a somewhat organized manner toward a wonderful garden. Please spend liberally, as my livelihood  depends on it, but be assured that every cent pays endless dividends in satisfaction.