Special note: My 365-Day challenge is finished successfully, ahead of schedule! Click to read about outcome.
I admire people who have green thumbs. I don't.
It's not unusual for people where I live to put fake flowers -the flora equivalent of plastic pink flamingos- in their window boxes and yards. The practice both amuses and repels me. Many of my senior and snowbird neighbors have neither the energy nor the opportunities to cultivate and maintain flowered borders and beds, but they seem to crave the visual interest flowers give to a home's exterior. Perhaps they grew up with colorful yards; maybe they tended flower beds themselves in their younger days; possibly they just want flowers around their homes and subscribe to the plant-once-and-be-done home decorating philosophy. Whatever motivates them to do it, the result is the same: eye-catching color that delights for the briefest instant before disappointing.
If people are going to put faux flowers in their yards, I suggest that they be blatantly fake. For example, a dear friend who has a lakeside camp that is heavily sheltered by trees "planted" a flower garden consisting of fabric polka-dotted blooms surrounded by rocks and naturally growing greens. It works because they are what they are; they don't pretend to be real. There's something to be said about authentic fakery - at least where flowers are concerned.
Having no discernible talent for growing anything green, with or without flowers, I've resorted to snapping pictures of blooms and buying fresh bouquets at the local grocery store. I sigh over floral fabrics, paintings, and photographs. But my inner being longs to be able to GROW some flowers, and so far, that doesn't seem likely to happen.
So, I'm taking a cue from my friend with the camp, and indulging in floral fakery. My first investment is a minimalistic 4" high wooden tulip, with a painted lavender bloom perched on a painted green stem flanked by painted green leaves. It's small. It's subtle. It's a start.
It's not unusual for people where I live to put fake flowers -the flora equivalent of plastic pink flamingos- in their window boxes and yards. The practice both amuses and repels me. Many of my senior and snowbird neighbors have neither the energy nor the opportunities to cultivate and maintain flowered borders and beds, but they seem to crave the visual interest flowers give to a home's exterior. Perhaps they grew up with colorful yards; maybe they tended flower beds themselves in their younger days; possibly they just want flowers around their homes and subscribe to the plant-once-and-be-done home decorating philosophy. Whatever motivates them to do it, the result is the same: eye-catching color that delights for the briefest instant before disappointing.
If people are going to put faux flowers in their yards, I suggest that they be blatantly fake. For example, a dear friend who has a lakeside camp that is heavily sheltered by trees "planted" a flower garden consisting of fabric polka-dotted blooms surrounded by rocks and naturally growing greens. It works because they are what they are; they don't pretend to be real. There's something to be said about authentic fakery - at least where flowers are concerned.
Having no discernible talent for growing anything green, with or without flowers, I've resorted to snapping pictures of blooms and buying fresh bouquets at the local grocery store. I sigh over floral fabrics, paintings, and photographs. But my inner being longs to be able to GROW some flowers, and so far, that doesn't seem likely to happen.
So, I'm taking a cue from my friend with the camp, and indulging in floral fakery. My first investment is a minimalistic 4" high wooden tulip, with a painted lavender bloom perched on a painted green stem flanked by painted green leaves. It's small. It's subtle. It's a start.
