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Hunger

© Diana Morgan

Gardeners, like all other members of that perverse species called Homo sapiens, hunger for what we can't have. If we happen to garden in a cold climate, the list of what we can't have rolls out like toilet tissue the cat's gotten to, winding merrily throughout the house.

However, being human, we still yearn towards the impossible. We plant hybrid tea roses, enjoy them for a season and replace them the next year when winter's cold does them in. Or we plant peaches, protect them, baby them, pray over them, hoping we'll get lucky and they will reward us with bounty. All fairly normal actions for northern gardeners.

Treating hybrid teas like annuals is one thing, but I saw a show on TV about a gardener in Ontario who went to mind-boggling lengths to grow figs. Perhaps you watched it too. The degree of hunger varies with the gardener and this man's need to grow figs approached starvation.

Each fall he would uproot the poor trees, bend them over into a trench and bury them with soil for the winter. He'd cover the whole thing with insulation and black plastic. I watched the show, appalled. Apparently the trees survived, none the worse for such harsh treatment. In fact, they flourished. He proudly displayed several varieties of healthy hearty fig trees.

Hungering for what we can't have isn't restricted to cold climate gardeners either. When I worked at the garden center I'd hear vacationing Floridians lament that they couldn't grow colorful annuals, like pansies. I was speechless.

"But you have hibiscus and camellias," I'd whisper reverently. They would wave a dismissive hand at such inconsequential details. It didn't matter that they could have such luxuries on a daily basis, all year round. They wanted zinnias.

My own hunger leans towards the exotic. Bourganvilla and wisteria, Cornus florida and pink pampas grass. All totally impossible here. I leaf through gardening catalogs and yearn like a 10-year-old at a car show. I might be able to buy, but I can't enjoy.

I firmly believe in the serenity prayer, but when one's hungry it is difficult to also remain serene. The desire for the unattainable becomes an unbearable greed. I've solved the dilemma in one of three ways. I've bought the forbidden plant and killed it, thus convincing myself I really can't grow it here. I've bought the plant, created a special microclimate for it, and had it thrive. Oh, joyous success! Zone 5 grapes in my borderline zone 3 & 4 garden. Or, I've bought a lookalike. My cold hardy roses, for instance. The latter never really satisfies though. It's just not the real thing. Big blousey rugosa roses are not elegant hybrid teas. It's like standing a floosey in the place of a duchess. Don't get me wrong, I love my hardy roses, but with hunger, there is no good substitute for the desired object.