Sunday, March 1, 2026

My Rag-Tag Gal

Some years back, when my first gardening neighbor retired and moved to Winchester, another micro-climate away, she gifted me her much-loved gardenia and we enlisted our shared handyman to help with the transplant. At that point in time, the gardenia was several years old and she still barely fit into the two-piece green floral plant cover that was conveyed to me in the transfer. But every year, as she has grown, I have had to cobble together all manner of burlap, old grill cover, and retired shower curtain liners, minus their sheered off mildewed bottoms.

One reason I agreed to this whole adoption arrangement is that my husband grew up in Texas from sixth grade on, and he fondly remembers the pleasing aroma of his mother’s gardenia. It is not overly strong, like lilac or magnolia, but a subtler blend of fresh, floral flavors that is not easy to describe but something glorious to inhale. I’m sorry to say that this winter may have been the gardenia’s Waterloo.

Several weeks ago, as the temperatures plunged I frocked her thoroughly, with more drapes than in prior years. During stages of the wintry mix, I cleared snow, then sleet, then ice from her outer coat, after which I waited almost two weeks for temperatures to climb back above freezing, at least in the daytime. Finally I was able to pull off the layers and invite our cloistered friend out into the sunshine. I honestly feared she’d be dead from two weeks of darkness, but this was not the case.

However, another snow event last week featured temperatures just above freezing, but a wet and heavy mix weighing down limbs for several hours. Judging from the belt of ragged, brown leaves this last bout of winter may prove to have been the knock out punch that I’ve dreaded for the past five years. Yet I know the roots are strong, and many of the leaves are still lapping up sunshine. So I can’t be sure.

This will no doubt be the year that our now-ragged gardenia gets a long-overdue haircut and styling. A proper coiffing, once her surviving blooms have had their moment on center stage. Stay tuned for an eventual update.







My Rag-Tag Gal

Some years back, when my first gardening neighbor retired and moved to Winchester, another micro-climate away, she gifted me her much-loved ...