I’m no stranger to gardening-related injuries. My standard complaints include lower backache, blisters, and even – and this is weird – sore fingernails (am I the only one who gets that?). But I’ve never been injured in a plant frenzy before.
Oh sure, I’ve imagined it countless times: being trampled by a herd of Rosarians who have just spotted a must-have rarity, or assaulted by a spinster coveting the hot new plant I’ve got in my basket. But this – embarrassingly – was a self-inflicted injury.
See, I was at the Vancouver Garden Show yesterday. It was a decent event, and I met some really great people and some really great plants. Like any addict, I was on the lookout for my drug of choice – texture and foliage plants. Namely, those elusive few I haven’t been able to find in my local nurseries.
One of these was Euphorbia ‘Diamond Frost.’ I planted it last year and it looked amazing. Anyway, I am in love with this euphorbia, my only complaint being that it’s not hardy in my zone (8), and the reason for me having to buy it again this year (although, I learned at the show that you don’t need a greenhouse to overwinter it – apparently you can bring it indoors and it will keep blooming. Who knew?).
Anyhoo, I was sure the Proven Winners tent would have some for sale, but instead I heard the dreaded, “I’m sorry, someone just bought the last ones.” I actually cursed. Out loud.
“But,” said the nice lady running the booth, “there are some in our display garden and today’s the last day of the show. Come by at closing.” Yay!
So, at 15 minutes to closing, I’m making my way up the hill toward their booth. Then I spot a white-haired, diminutive lady heading towards the exit, staggering under the weight of several pots of Euphorbia ‘Diamond Frost’! More curses are uttered, and I break into a run.
When I reach the display garden, I dive into the fray of crazed gardeners digging up plants with their bare hands, thankful that I’m not forced to get violent with any seniors. I emerge, triumphant, with four of my coveted euphorbias, and as an added bonus, six Pennisetum ‘Rubrum’ and a half-dozen ipomoea.
It was only later, when I’d gotten my plant booty home safely, that I realized my legs were aching as a result of my little sprint (damn you, fast-twitch muscles) and my hands were full of slivers from digging in the bark mulch with my bare hands.
But it was worth it. Now I just need to come up with a convincing way to say, “oh, I ran a marathon on the weekend, that’s why I’m hobbling around.”