Desert Gardening in Phoenix: What Seeds Teach Us (Day 4)

Before we took off for Phoenix, I got books. I like books. If I’m going to garden in Phoenix, of course I’ll need to read books about how to do it. Gain knowledge.

Ha.

Hahahaha.

We arrived in April and I did try. But no matter how much I had read, I could not make my brain believe that April here is basically November. No one starts a garden in November in the Northeast. So why did I start my Phoenix garden in April? Because it was spring. In spring, I garden. It’s what I do.

I’d had success growing plants from seed in our previous home with its loamy soil. I read the directions, plunged in enthusiastically, and got results.

Phoenix, however, had other plans.

I told myself I didn’t need grow lights. I had the sun. Endless sun. One giant grow light. So I added compost to what later became The Pit of Despair (did you catch the foreshadowing?) and planted zinnia, salvia, cosmos – plants the Internet assured me liked dryness and heat.

The zinnias and salvias promptly sprouted…and burned. The seeds could germinate, but the seedlings couldn’t survive. I planted shrubs, too. One, “Kangaroo Paws” did quite well and even bloomed. Then, while we were on vacation, the drip irrigation head popped out. When we got back, it was 100% dead. Bereft of life. Nothing left.

I was hot, tired, and discouraged. At that point, something else distracted me for several months.

And then, recently, look who showed up.

If you’re thinking this is the saddest little cosmos you’ve ever seen, I won’t argue. But this tiny survivor popped up – in The Pit of Despair, no less – a full year after baking in the merciless sun and in what is some clearly tough soil. I cannot explain how much happiness this little guy gave me. There’s something about a plant that came from a seed I planted that makes me more invested than if I’d bought a larger version. And it made me want to start again.

So here I am. It’s nearly April, and I’m planting things. This time, I’ve made some adjustments. I’m using seed trays so I can move them depending on conditions – a bonus in this late March record heat wave. I’ve learned that my Northeast (bull in a china shop) enthusiasm didn’t bring results in the desert. Time did. The desert even gifted me a few plants I did nothing to earn.

I’ll tell you more about what I’m trying as we go, and I hope I’ll have progress to show you.

One thing I did learn: you can start a garden in November in the Northeast. Even a winter garden with blooms. The plant selection becomes highly limited, but it can be done.

My Phoenix garden’s April options are more limited than they will be in the fall, but I’m going to try, probably fail at many things, and maybe succeed at a few. I am, however, trying to listen to what the desert taught me in our first year.

Patience.

With just enough of that old enthusiasm to keep moving forward steadily – in the shade.

“Time will explain.”

-Jane Austen, “Persuasion”

Once more unto the breach,
🌿 Ruby