It’s the time of year when we’ve always filled garden pots with geraniums, petunias and trailing lobelias, hoping for a good show through the summer. And being creatures of habit, we’ve not allowed much variety, even in colour. So this year, with lockdown preventing visits to garden centres, was a bit of a shock: we might have to do something different. Our local garden centre was still delivering, but I’ve always chosen my plants, rather than letting someone else do it. Too bad, I reflected: we just have to live within the possibilities.
So I telephoned my order, only to find that there were few petunias, and no lobelias. The helpful assistant suggested alternatives, and I agreed. But no lobelias! How could this possibly work? Yesterday – it being our practice these days to stay firmly at home on any Bank holiday – I put on the gardening clothes and set about emptying daffodil and tulip bulbs from the sad-looking winter pots, and re-filling them with some new fibre. In little time, four large pots, now dressed for summer, graced the patio. But what about the fifth?
Looking at this last pot, there seemed to be weeds among the bedraggled remains of daffodil leaves. Weeds? On closer inspection, tiny seedlings – lobelia seedlings! Self-seeded from last year, they were ready to plant out. An unexpected gift, they came as a surprise; they speak to me about God’s generous, divine grace.