Plant Therapy
I’m not sure why I’m here. Well, yeah, I guess I know why. The judge told me I had to be here, so I’m here. Me… in anger management therapy … I can’t believe it. I told the judge he would need therapy too if he had to share a flower bed with a plant that wins the Plant of the Year award every friggin’ year. I guess he wasn’t amused. The winning plant is Hot Lips turtlehead. What a truly stupid name. (Bleep.) It’s embarrassing sharing a bed with a plant named for what … a character from the old TV show, “M.A.S.H.”? Or maybe that kids’ cartoon about mutant ninja warriors? You wanna talk names? My common name, Solomon’s seal, comes from the legendary biblical King Solomon, who left his personal, magical circular mark on my rhizomes. In A.D. 130-200, the most famous physician of his day, Galen, recommended using Solomon’s seal root to remove freckles, spots and marks for a fair and lovely skin. Amazing, huh? My botanical name is Polygonatum odoratum “Variegatum.” My friends call me Odor. And yes, it pisses me off that they’ve called me that my whole life, but it never really bothered me. Not at all. Maybe once or twice.
I’m not being a jerk, despite what you think, but a nomination for Plant of the Year this year would have shown a little respect. That’s all I’m asking for, some recognition that I meet and exceed everyone’s expectations every year, EVERY YEAR, and nobody seems to care. You would think doing the dirty work in the bed, growing in shade while adding color and texture to the space under the dogwood tree, would mean something to the Academy, but apparently it doesn’t. (Bleep.)
You want to know how this makes me feel? You’re kidding, right? You might as well ask me if I had a happy childhood. Just how cliché is this session going to be? I’ll tell you this, my childhood was a hell of a lot better than this (bleep). My earliest memory is me creeping underground as a baby rhizome, warm, dark, safe, and protected from idiots who still don’t know how valuable I am. It’s not like I made a lot of friends underground. It was just me, surrounded by other rhizomes who all wanted to suck my share of the nutrients out of the soil. It figures that they would be family. They were supposed to love me, not compete with me before I poked a few stems above ground to get a little air. I hold no grudges, though. I’m stuck with them under this dogwood tree for the rest of my life, so I might as well get along with them, you know what I mean? We’re family. We all need the same amount of sunlight, which when you come down to it, is the most important thing. We don’t really like the sun, which is fine with me, because shade suits my mood most of the time. Hanging with the family, dressing up the bed with a few flowers in the spring, and being a dependable contributor to the garden with our pretty variegated leaves isn’t so bad, at least I don’t think so. I just wish those (bleeping) turtleheads would quit ragging on us about being overlooked for an award every year. Yes, I’m sorry I might have been a little aggressive, telling them to shut up about it. And it was just a little shove. No one got hurt. But you have to agree, sometimes enough is enough.
I’m a spring bloomer, with little white bell-shaped flowers that hang down below my variegated leaves. When the family is feeling it in the spring, we are quite a sight. Of course, no one pays attention to us because every other spring-blooming plant in the garden is more spectacular. You name them, I despise them. Hellebore, or Lenten rose, is one that gets a lot of attention. The daffodils in the early spring are annoying. And you can’t forget the brunnera, or Jack Frost forget-me-nots, who seem to garner a nomination every year. There are a bunch of new purple iris in the sun bed which will get everyone’s attention this spring. And I will be overlooked, again. (Bleep.) I don’t know what those clowns in the Academy are looking for. I’m good-looking AND low-maintenance, that’s for sure. A little fertilizer in the spring, maybe a little compost, and I’m good to go for the year. At least I look great for the entire season, even if I only flower in the spring. Turtlehead plants are completely useless most of the year. Yeah, yeah, they look good in the fall. So what? You can grow old waiting for them to get around to doing anything colorful.
Did I mention the groundcover in the bed? They claim I’m a groundcover too, which is annoying, because I usually grow in clumps and I’m too tall (and good-looking) to be considered groundcover. I don’t spend a lot of time talking to the low-growing epimedium and shale barrens sedum next to me, mostly because they struggle every year, and I don’t like being seen with them. You would think they would make it easier for us to be noticed, but those morons in the Academy can’t seem to get their heads out of their (bleep) long enough to appreciate us. Of course, there are some plants that are no longer around the neighborhood here on the shade side of the waterfall bed. I haven’t seen lady’s mantle and Rozanne geraniums for a long time. I think they died. Too bad, huh? And I sort of felt bad this year when the deer walked past the Solomon’s seal patch at night to munch on the turtlehead plants. What a cryin’ shame.
We talk a little trash among ourselves in our tight little Solomon’s seal community. We do have a few rules we try to follow. No politics is one. No religion is another. We do talk about sports a lot of the time. Why is it the Ravens seem to have one game every year when no one can catch a pass, either on the offense or the defense? And when will the Orioles win a playoff game at home, or any other place for that matter? (Bleep.) Lately that can get a little heated, too, because the gardener transplanted a few Solomon seal cousins of mine from another part of the garden this year, and they like the Yankees and the Steelers. Is that even possible? (Bleep.) What can you do? Family, right?
You’re not looking at your watch are you? Are you one of those therapists who gives you 50 minutes but charges for an hour? I hate that. (Bleep.) I’m out there all year trying to dress up a bed every day, without a break, and you start worrying about your coffee break after just a few minutes with me? By the way, I would love to look at your notes when we finish. I know you’re not writing anything in that notebook.
If you say we’re done, then I guess we’re done. It’s been a business doing pleasure with you. I feel better already. What time next week?
I hope you enjoyed listening in on the anger management session with Solomon’s seal. This is confidential information so please treat it accordingly. Next week I’ll have more fascinating, educational, and insightful thoughts to share about perennial gardening. I hope you’ll join me. If you want to share this content with friends and enemies, click the share button in the text, or send them a link to kensolow.substack.com. For more Painful Education of a Type A Gardener, be sure to check out the archives. The content in free.
So, um, Odor..... Very strong of you to lay out your grievances. It didn't seem to help, however; so my professional advice (I took a counseling class in college. It was 50 years ago, but I did get a "B-".) would be to just give up.