Rainy Day Dreaming

More rain today. It's just as well. My back is killing me. Not to worry, though. I have enough to keep me occupied indoors. Not housework. Heavens, no. I am referring to the half a dozen stacks of garden books, catalogs and magazines littering my kitchen table -- coffee stained, those that belong to me. I'm more careful of library books. Yes, these piles contain the gardeners dreams, hopes and aspirations, the candy and the confections we crave. Is it possible to have a sweet tooth for a plant? Yes. It is. Consider poufs of pink roses arching over a trellis or perhaps a gay chorus of Columbines dancing in the breeze. Oops! Did I say the g word. For crying out loud. I meant just that. Should I have said "happy?" Never mind. As gardeners we are always planning the next best ever garden, dreaming of our own Syssinghurst, in our back yards. Or perhaps perusing the catalogs for the elusive plant that can't be found locally or is so rare it must be propagated by tissue culture, and the plant you want is unavailable for at least another three years. . . . Aha! Not to worry. This is where garden friends come in, these friends who are friends of friends who have cuttings of this very plant you lust after. Your eyes glaze over in thought. You try to envision where this plant will go once your greedy hands take it into their possession. . . . It needs sun. . . . Drat. Something will have to go, that stand of aging Phlox you have been meaning to dig up, and thus you spend a good many hours until day turns to evening, and your stomach begins to growl, and the people you share your home with cast hopeful glances your way. They know better than to make demands, but lets face it you're the cook in the house. Before you gather up your mess to make dinner, you a make a note to contact this person, this friend who knows the person who holds your dreams.