Ever since I wrote my last column on the greenhouse I've been brooding over it. Do I really want a greenhouse? I know three gardeners whose greenhouses are bereft of plants. I think these gardeners, one being my own mother, had fun raising various flowers for a few years, but then got bored or tired of the process. When I spot little greenhouses attached to suburban homes it seems that more of them are empty than filled with inviting greenery.
If I had a greenhouse I would feel totally obligated to fill it full of plants. And I am sure that in a few years I would find the whole operation very tedious. Gardening in a greenhouse, unlike gardening outdoors, may be a lot of work, but it requires very little exercise. That might be just fine for some gardeners, but to me it's a big drawback. Puttering around with seeds and seedlings isn't the same as transplanting perennials, edging the flower bed, and above all, spending an hour at my favorite occupation, weeding!
But the real problem I have with a greenhouse is the thought of gardening 365 days a year. When do I get a little R and R? Sometimes I have trouble just making sure my houseplants get watered often enough to not die of thirst. I think true garden lovers stick with their hobby because every winter they have to put away their trowels and tomato stakes and take an enforced vacation. Winter offers the New England gardener an ideal period in which to reflect on the garden's good points and bad points, to decide how to correct the mistakes made during the previous summer, and figure out how to handle the problems that may occur during the following summer.
What, for instance, made one part of the garden a heart-warming success but another part a dismal failure? What was missing in the flower bed that would make it perfect? What would add to the gastronomic pleasures derived from the vegetable garden? Is it time to hire someone else to mow the lawn? What marvelous new varieties flowers and vegetables in the seed catalogs would jazz up the property?
When the gardens are blanketed in snow, gardeners have a chance to gain a new perspective on the growing season's petty problems. It's difficult to feel anything but fury when morning after morning you find another tender head of lettuce decimated by a night-marauding rabbit. But looking back on that infuriating experience from a distance takes all the sting out of it. You may even begin to feel some affection for that nose-twitching, big-eared bunny. After all, he was a pretty appealing fellow the few times you spotted him sitting on the path.
The winter season is the gardener's R and R, a time to dream up new ways to make the gardening season more enjoyable. Think about planting a nicotiana by the front door for a delicious night scent, or training an autumn clematis vine on a trellis beside the terrace. Look through the catalogs and find a flowering shrub that will provide a splash of color in a corner of the yard.
As you envision the improvements you can make, the new plant varieties you want to try and the silly, unnecessary mistakes you made last year but won't make this, the difficulties you experienced last summer shrink and disappear. The idea of giving up gardening seems absurd as the old enthusiasms revive.
Having said all that, I've decided that winter is definitely a good time for Rest and Relaxation. Despite the fact that several of my readers sent great suggestions on how to solve the vent and white fly problems, I will not revamp my solar greenhouse. I may force a few paper whites and manage to water my houseplants often enough so they don't shrivel, and certainly spend plenty of time pouring over the seed catalogs, but I've put the skids to the greenhouse idea.
