My garden started in the early 1970s on a tiny lot in Louisville, Colorado, when my neighbor, Grace, gave me some hen-and-chicks. I still grow and adore them (they remind me of her) even though my garden has evolved into a mostly native, xeric display, thanks to the availability of local natives these days. And this garden is packed! Whenever there is a spot of dirt big enough for a plant, I show up at Mikl and Eve’s nursery in Boulder and yell, “Hi, it’s the drunk in a bar!”—and get one of every native I don’t already have! I love to visit them each month to see what’s blooming, so I can have different garden interests the whole season.
When people come to my yard, sometimes I can only recall the Latin name of a plant and not the English. Folks think I’m really smart. Not so, only forgetful!
When I hear people say, ”I have to go work in the garden,” I smile. That’s not true for me! How many times have I gotten hungry while gardening, decide it must be time for breakfast—and go inside to discover it’s 11:30?!
—By Jean Morgan of Louisville, CO.
