It’s fall! Can you tell? Our weather still says summer, but that didn't stop us from a this-and-that weekend, here at the Johnson household. My husband and I puttered about the house and yard, together and apart—a relaxing and satisfying way to spend Saturday and Sunday.

Ick

Much better

Come and get it!

Baby basils

Dendrobium Salaya Candy

This week, my husband and I were simultaneously seized by the desire to redo the planters that surround our pool—a dangerous occurrence resulting in much spending, digging, sweating, planting and neglecting of other activities.

And chaos.

Two trips to the nursery and six hours (apiece) later, we’ve achieved our goal. What do you think?


We rearranged our container plants to blend in with the planters, replaced soil, fertilized, and topped off the beds with pine straw. I even have a tiny containerized herb garden:


We’re ready for some serious lounging outside now that we’ve cut down on the “Oh, that needs to be fixed,” items. Time to pour that cold drink and pick up that book…

I’d like to introduce you to Mr. Fancy Pants. His official name is “Psy. Mariposa Oncidium ‘Green Valley,’” but Mr. Fancy Pants rolls off the tongue a bit better. I wish I could take credit for his nickname, but my friend Barb, who is responsible for my obsession hobby of orchid-keeping, came up with this moniker. We think he looks like a flamenco dancer—can you see his little head, ruffled shirt and fancy pants?

Barb helped me choose my first two orchids. I purchased several more on my own, and each time after they finished blooming, for at least two years I waited in vain for another blossom. During that time, a couple of the new purchases went to the big greenhouse in the sky (and imagine what that looks like!). I swore to myself until one of my purchases bloomed for a second time, I wasn’t going to buy any more. In the meantime, I did a little research on orchids, and decided mine might do better on our lanai—perhaps our house was too dry/cool/had the wrong type of sunlight. Barb’s orchids, which she keeps inside, bloom their hearts out constantly. Indoors, mine were sad little ghosts of themselves, even when I put them near the window in our steamy bathroom.

So I dutifully moved them outside. And lo and behold, in the fullness of time, a flower stem appeared, first on one and then another! Well. That was it. I began looking for orchids that were “different”—I bought a scented orchid (Oncidium Sherry Baby) and one that lives attached to a piece of wood—“Epi Timezepe Belle x Epi Tampensis x Epi Memorale” says the tag. Whatever that means. I infected my husband with orchid fever, and now he wants us to have enough plants so that we always have one blooming.


We now have 12 orchids. Four including Fancy Pants are blooming right now, and three more have buds that haven’t yet opened. I am no orchid expert—in fact mine seem to thrive on benign neglect. I’ve had a couple more casualties since that first rebloom, but overall our little orchid colony is thriving.


So far I have a mild case of orchid fever. I haven’t traipsed through a swamp in search of a rare variety or illegally picked any in the wild. I don’t have a greenhouse filled with thousands of plants—and I don’t want one. I don’t want to become an expert or spend untold hours and money to amass a huge collection. My orchids are a simple pleasure and a way to add beauty to our surroundings. And that's enough.


For more information on orchids, visit the American Orchid Society at http://www.aos.org/.

The gardens themselves looked great, considering the hard winter we had. (I know anyone from the North reading this is snorting their coffee thinking of Florida’s “hard winter,” but truthfully, the landscape here was pretty ravaged.) It’s a pleasure to stroll through the grounds any time, but especially so when booths filled with blooming flowers, herbs, orchids and rare and exotic fruit trees line the walkways. We wandered by the butterfly garden, a newly-installed carnivorous plant area, and a gently tumbling stream.


At the festival (and isn’t “festival” a happy word full of color and music and celebration?), local plant clubs and societies as well as commercial growers from throughout the state sell everything from African violets, orchids, bromeliads and bonsai to bougainvillea, native plants, camellias, tropical fruit trees, palms, carnivorous plants and more. Of course you can purchase plants, but if you have a plant-related question, someone here knows the answer and is happy to share it with you.

I had a list of plants I wanted to buy to replace some of the casualties from our freezing winter, and secretly I hoped to find one or two interesting orchids to add to my ever-growing obsess…—I mean collection. I came home with two orchids, some basil (my seedlings have mysteriously disappeared from their starter flat), chocolate mint, a geranium and a Ptilotus Joey, a plant I’d never heard of before.

I would have bought more, but there was just too much to choose from! I’ve discovered that I become paralyzed and unable to make a decision when faced with too much variety, and end up choosing nothing. Sometimes that happens to me in life, too. I have so many interests and responsibilities that I become overwhelmed and instead of partaking of the delicious abundance available, I shut down and do nothing, letting things pile up around me. I retreat into the safety of a book or a TV show, or I do nothing but the menial and unimportant, neglecting the things that are of real value to me.

Perhaps my word of the year should have been “simplify” instead of “open.” But then I would be going against part of my very nature—the part that wants to taste and touch and explore and learn. The trick is finding a way to do it without overwhelming myself—somehow making my way though the garden festival of life without losing myself in its riot of color and scent.