He who is born with a silver spoon in his mouth is generally considered a fortunate person, but his good fortune is small compared to that of the happy mortal who enters this world with a passion for flowers in his soul. — Celia Thaxter
For nearly as long as I can remember, my mom has planted Impatiens after the danger of frost has passed.
They were beautiful. A profusion of color — shades of pink and white that made you smile when you peeked outside.
The past few years, mom has refused to buy them.
‘I don’t know why, but I can’t get them to grow any more,’ she said.
Maybe our soil wasn’t “loamy” enough. Maybe they didn’t get enough shade, or we over- or under-watered.
Our impatiens became leggy, the flowers dropped off, and they required constant “babying.”
Who has time for that?
When we went plant-shopping this season, I asked mom about getting impatiens, and a wistful look came across her face.
‘No,’ she told me.
Still, I was determined to try.
A couple of weeks ago, I stopped by the garden shop at WalMart and practically ran into a new display of “Sun Patiens.”
Having never heard of such a plant, I reached for the instructional tag and learned:
- It’s a hybrid that grows in sun or shade, rain or shine, spring through fall
- It thrives in heat and humidity
- It’s easy-peasy to grow and requires no fertilizer
I called mom, convinced her we needed one, and carried it to the checkout counter.
Well, it had plenty of flowers when I bought it, but soon they all disappeared. Gulp!
Chalking that up to transplantation, I convinced myself not to worry. Trust in nature and care for it as best as possible.
(Besides, it wasn’t that expensive, so I wouldn’t be out a fortune even if it failed to thrive.)
This morning, my “Sun Patiens” looked like this:
Isn’t it a beauty?
Mom isn’t thrilled with the orangey-red color (that was all they had), but she loves seeing this amazing plant on the patio. And who wouldn’t?
June 6, 2014 — 36 inches
June 16, 2014 — 48 inches
June 21, 2014 — 63 inches, give or take