My entry garden is entering its fifth summer. Some plants are growing gangbusters, while other are of the “slow and steady wins the race” variety. A few, however, are missing in action.

I like to plant in groups of odd numbers. Unless the plants are framing something, such as the two ‘Soft Touch’ dwarf white pines in the photograph below, I never plant just two of the same variety. Four is out of the question, since even if you stagger them they somehow end up forming a square.

No, my gardens are planted with groups of three, five and seven. If I had more space I’d extend that to nine or thirteen. More is more, and it’s important to be odd.

So here I am, entering my fifth growing season on Poison Ivy Acres and I see that in several places the third plant has died. This spring I see two Nepetas, two ‘Pinot Gris’ Heucheras and two Calaminthas, and that’s just at the front of one garden. It’s maddening.

Now I have a choice. Option one is to buy another of these plants and restore the group of threes. I could also dig up the two remaining, relocate them or toss them out, and put something else in that part of the garden.

I think I’ll do a bit of both. I will move and regroup the Nepeta, buy another Heuchera, and transplant the Calamintha.  While I’m out there with the shovel I think I’ll take the opportunity to remove the ‘Rozanne’ Geranium imposters and replace them with something new.

Whenever possible in life, it’s helpful to see change as an opportunity, even when we might not have chosen that particular circumstance as the ideal time to be adaptable.

Things are popping up early in this warm spring. The two 'Soft Touch' dwarf white pines remained lovely all winter as they flank the steps up to my vegetable garden. But some perennials didn't make it.

The red circles show where a Heuchera, Nepeta and Calamintha died. Time to look at all of the places in this garden where things may not be doing well. Time to get rid of some plants that have annoyed me for four years, like the Geranium Rozanne that isn't really that variety. (Where did I buy those from? I wish I'd kept a record of that...) Time to plant a few new varieties...I just ordered six new Nepeta from Digging Dog Nursery. Time to get excited!

I’ve featured my bamboo cloches in this blog before so you know how much I love them. Imagine how upset I was when one blew away last week after a night of very strong winds. Despite the weights and ties, one basket broke free and disappeared. I looked in the lot next door, on my neighbors’ property, and the area between our house and the lake. I found nothing.

We’ve all experienced how something lost will suddenly turn up when you’re no longer looking, right? Well that’s what happened for me today. I was all dressed up for my speaking gig at in Hingham, MA, when I took the dog out early this morning. I needed to be sure he was well walked before I left for the morning, so I was paying more attention to the canine than I was to my surroundings.

That’s when I saw my basket. It was in the lake, about seven feet from shore, upside down. I looked down at my speaking attire and thought, “It can’t go far…” so I left it where it was.

When I returned to Poison Ivy Acres after my talk I once again returned to the lakeshore. This time I took off my shoes, pulled up my pants and waded in. The water is still freezing, but I was able to walk out into the lake and rescue my bamboo cloche.

Five paragraphs into this post I finally get to the point and bring all of this back to the garden. (Thanks for sticking with me.)  At this time of year the landscape is all about renewal and those of us who love plants and gardens feel absolutely, totally saved. A couple of warm days in March pluck us out of our winter funks as surely as I pulled that cloche from the shores of Lawrence Pond.

Do we stop to appreciate this season enough for the sense of liberation we feel? Maybe not. Let’s all unite in our thanks for the yearly cycles of renewal and the return of growth.

Although I had my camera with me at 7 AM, I wasn't prepared to fish this cloche out of the water.

The dog loved the rescue of the cloche later in the day. Not only was I willing to throw the stick into the icy water for him to retrieve, but I went into the water too! A spring celebration!

I will admit that they are creepy looking. And yes, they hide under the shingles of your house or the pots on your deck. Certainly, they eat dahlias, butterfly bush and young annuals early in the season. Nevertheless, Earwigs are beneficial insects.

Earwigs eat decaying plant matter and even some other insects. You’ll notice that they do more damage to plants early in the summer and this is because there are fewer decaying foliage or other insects at this time of year. The same dahlia that might be shredded early in June won’t be touched in July or August.

This insect is a good lesson for we Homo sapiens. Earwigs remind us that just because a bug looks scary doesn’t mean that it’s harmful. They are a lesson in the importance of patience and thought. This insect reminds us that in nature things are always changing but usually work toward balance.

If your plants are being eaten by earwigs early in the season just dust them with diatomaceous earth. Or roll up wet sheets of newspaper into tubes and place them around the garden…earwigs will hide in the tubes in the daytime allowing you to pick up these traps and throw them in the garbage.

Know that if you are able to control the damage early on with diatomaceous earth, however, the earwigs will move on to helping old foliage break down into your soil. Yes, they look creep but they are neither totally good nor completely bad. They have their place, just like us.

Everything is connected to everything else.

When I planted these dahlias I forgot about earwigs. They, of course, moved right in and began to shred the leaves. I dusted with the white diatomaceous earth and the damage stopped. Note to self: dust newly planted annuals right after they go into the garden and avoid the damage altogether. Further note to self: these are not bad insects, just opportunistic creatures looking out for their own best interests. Like us. We can coexist.

Perhaps the number one reason to plant a garden is because looking at flowers makes us happy.

Perennial geraniums and a self-seeded Verbascum chaixii. Yum.

If you want lots of foxglove, start them from seeds.

Large áreas don't have to be wild flowers - here annuals such as dahlias, blue salvia and Verbena bonariensis are evenly planted in a field.

There is something about flowers that stimulates our creativity...perhaps it's all that COLOR.

Maybe the entry to every home should be a flower garden.

Two mood lifters combined! A dog and flowers.

Feel better? I know I do.

I went into the garden center today and was greeted by a new group of Anthuriums in the greenhouse. Wow. They were the outrageous blooms that manage to look tropical, plastic and like 1950’s drapery fabric all at the same time. I immediately felt a case of plant lust coming on.

Although I managed to resist buying one today, I’m not making any promises for the future. After all, I came home to a typical winter landscape where even the cluster of watering cans seem to ask, “Is it spring yet?”

In many aspects of our lives we tend to lean forward. When kids are under twelve they want to be teenagers. Teenagers want to be independent young adults. Once we’re grownups we want to be settled and successful. And gardeners are always looking forward to spring.

It’s all yearning for growth, isn’t it?

As much as I totally and completely see the wisdom of being in the present moment, I have to honor this yearning for evolution and progress. Appreciate the now, while at the same time moving forward.

Anthuriums are exotic, erotic and fanciful...the perfect plant for winter.

But while the tropical colors call to me, I can still appreciate the stillness of my winter landscape.

I got home after a week away and found that my houseplants were dry. That’s not surprising. What I thought as I walked around with the watering can, however, was that noticing this twenty minutes after I got home was important. I’m convinced that there are two reasons that people can’t keep houseplants alive and the first has to do with attention to watering.

The “attention” part is the crucial element here. How plants are watered is, of course, a matter of life or death. Too little and the plants dry up, too much and their roots rot. But in order to determine if there is a dearth or an excess of water on any particular plant, our eyes and minds are essential.

At the beginning of this New Year, I’m wondering if this is any different from how we approach other aspects of our lives. Whether we have an advanced aptitude for what we encounter in our work, home life, community, or other pursuits or not, paying attention is often the key to success.

By the way, the second reason that people can’t keep houseplants alive is also tied to awareness. Plants need the correct amount of water and light. Here too attention is important. The light that shines in one window is different from that which flows in through another. Noticing what is there on a day-by-day and month-to-month basis means the difference between houseplant success and failure.

New Year’s resolution: notice all the areas of life where concentration and responsiveness might make all the difference.

A simple facebook post for the garden center has me wondering… why do some people have a green thumb?

As I wrote about a recent shipment of Cyclamen I thought about what to say. This isn’t a forget-about-it-for-ten-days-and-it-will-be-fine kind of plant. If a Cyclamen dries up so that the plant wilts, the buds are likely to die and it will stop blooming.

Too little watering is therefore bad for this plant, but too much moisture can be equally detrimental. Most Cyclamen instructions tell you to “water from the bottom” or “avoid getting the crown of the plant wet.” Both of these recommendations stem from the fact that when kept too moist Cyclamen can get crown rot and die.

This plant wants bright light but not much direct sun. And then there’s the matter of the summer dormancy period…

Some people are best off thinking of Cyclamen as a long lasting cut flower that is in dirt instead of water. In other words, don’t expect to keep this plant for more than a couple of months.

This train of thought lead me to this question: What makes a green thumb? Why are some people better able to keep plants alive while others are doomed to throw them in the compost? Is it simply a matter of too much or too little water, or is there something else going on?

I have some thoughts, but I’d love to hear yours first.

Cyclamen. They are beautiful. Get one. Enjoy it as long as it lives. Don't stress about keeping it alive for months or years.

A couple of days ago a woman who listens to my radio program called. She is part of a local non-profit and they were considering planting a Franklinia alatamaha tree outside their building. “Can this tree survive on Cape Cod?” she asked.

I wandered out in my garden and looked at my Franklinia while I spoke to her. This lovely small tree/large shrub was one of the first trees we planted at Poison Ivy Acres four years ago. It always blooms from September into November and frequently has flowers at the same time as colorful fall foliage.

It’s worth reading about the history of this plant because my tree, and yours too if you get one, is related to the plants discovered by John and William Bartram in 1765. Since they were there in October, I’m guessing that the shrubs were in bloom when they came upon them. They named the plant after John Bartram’s good friend, Benjamin Franklin.

On a subsequent journey to the Altamaha River in Georgia, William collected seeds and brought them back to Philadelphia. A good thing too, as the tree was last seen in the wild in 1803 by John Lyon, an English plant collector. After that it disappeared.

All the Franklinias today are descended from seed collected by William Bartram and grown at the Bartram garden. So growing a Franklinia is kind of like having a dog descended from Rin Tin Tin. You feel an actual physical connection to something and someone special from the past.

As we move through the busyness of our days it’s easy to forget that we’re linked to people and places in the past and the future. It’s good to have a reminder of those connections growing in the backyard.

If you're lucky enough to see Kirk Brown appearing as John Bartram (http://johnbartramlives.me) ask him about this tree.

The weather was wonderfully warm the past two days so I seized the moment and dug my dahlia tubers. In the past I haven’t been too concerned with marking specific colors or types of dahlias, but this season we discovered the downside of that relaxed approach. Somehow we’d ended up with dozens of dark red flowers and fewer of everything else.

“Hmmm,” I say to myself. “This is why people label the stakes, or write on the tubers with Sharpies in the fall.” Lesson learned. As I dug I made sure that the plastic label saying “Lavender and White” or “Peach Cactus” stayed with the appropriate clump.

This fall I also fell in love with how the combination of bright red and peach dahlia blossoms looked along the fence between the veggie garden and Annual Alley. Although I’ve thought of this space as an area to experiment with different annuals every year, I know that I’d like to repeat that red/peach combo in 2012…and build on it, of course. I separated these tubers and in addition to color I designated them as “for fence.”

The carrot in this situation is knowing that a particular combination of plants and flowers will speak to my heart and lift my spirits. The stick is understanding that without taking some action, in this case labeling my dahlia tubers, I’m less likely to create the look I want.

One of the things I love about gardening is that we’re encouraged to pay attention and to move forward by taking advantage of what we’ve learned in past seasons. Yes, all of life is, or should be, like this…but the garden drives the lessons home with the carrot not the stick. We are rewarded with flowers, fresh vegetables, or lovely landscapes, and this urges us to refine our efforts in the future.

I’m wondering if for some people the tendency to focus on planting is stronger than the predilection for being outraged at unpleasant surroundings. Cultivating a better world takes both types, of course, but it might be worthwhile for each of us to contemplate where our attention is best placed.

Viewed from the vegetable garden, those red and peach dahlias were cheering.

Everywhere I look the landscape is so incredibly lush. Since most of my gardens contain a mix of annuals, perennials and shrubs, and I love different foliage colors as well as flowers, they still are brilliant and full. In fact, the plants are so beautiful that it’s difficult to focus on anything else.

Yet focus I must…but as I walk through the garden toward the front door, I ask it for some wisdom to take indoors. Believing that everything is connected to everything else, and knowing that even a trip through the front yard can be a mini-vision quest, I look to the garden for tips about growth.

The front garden speaks to me about the importance of diversity. There are times when I wonder if keeping so many balls in the air is a mistake… work at the garden center, speaking, finishing two new books, the radio program, my own gardens and volunteer work. And I’m always looking for new projects to plant. My garden reminds me to appreciate that I’m able to maintain this lushly planted life.

In the garden the wide variety of plants guarantees that there is always something of interest going on…the daylilies aren’t looking great, but the Profusion zinnias and jewels-of-Opar are spectacular. So it is in life as well…one or more areas may not be busy, easy or successful, but if we have a diversity of interests and work there is usually something satisfying to focus on.

Moving toward the front door, the pots of annuals and succulents remind me that even in all this richness, sometimes you have to contain yourself. That single agave in a pot is much healthier, and more interesting, because it’s alone. There are times when pulling back is OK, and concentrating on just one thing is important.

Then there’s the chair that’s behind the group of containers. It too has something to say: “Don’t forget to rest!”

Moving from the driveway to the front door I pass through a full and diversely planted garden.

Even the potted plants and furniture have something to say...