Today is June 1, the start of a new month. This week the thermometer reminded us summer is just around the corner, which makes my head spin because it feels like yesterday I was getting excited to watch the first bulbs push up out of the ground only to be covered up again by snow (happened several times in April, I think?)
I just came inside after spending time in my home garden. I wasn’t weeding, or planting, or watering: I was just sitting. Being present. Trying to see things from a different perspective. I’ve begun to make a habit of taking my camera into the garden every few days to document the changing heights, colors, textures, and movements as this planting enters its second full season. I used to do this many years ago in my childhood garden. Reviving this habit carries some heavy nostalgia.
Of all the photos I’ve taken this year, one from this evening has already become a favorite, and I’m sharing it with you here: a happy bumble bee on an emerging Allium obliquum. I first discovered this yellow onion at Northwind Perennial Farm close to a decade ago (or more... yikes). A good friend (Lois! Hi!) sent me seeds in the mail that fall. It was the first time someone had ever sent me seeds in the mail (that wasn’t a seed catalog). I was ecstatic. Lois has beautiful handwriting, and the envelope was decorated with the most charming doodles. I should have saved the package...
Anyway, I couldn't get the seeds to take, and I couldn't find bulbs from any of the usual suppliers who only carried the “tried-and-true” bulbs. Both plan A and B had failed. Sometimes that happens. I moved on.
Last fall, I found them again. It was the first time I had seen them in a catalog (and I had hunted online long before this, coming up empty). They weren't "cheap" as bulbs go (I think I paid about $35-$45 for a bag of 10 bulbs?). Cost be damned.
Here's what I'm learning: like so many things I enjoy, they don't "make a statement" one unto themself, with smaller, golf-ball size, pale-yellow flowers. But in a group... watch out. Strength in numbers, folks. The way they pop the pale pink flowers of the Penstemon hirsutus, or dance against the deep purplish red of Penstemon 'Pocahontas', or drift gently through the silver and gold flowers of Festuca glauca: they are understated and underrated.
I'm sharing all of this not to brag about "collecting" a plant that's been on my personal wish list for 10+ years. I'm sharing this because it's yet another example of one of so many ways that a relationship with plants can support us. This is a story ten years in the making.
A few weeks ago, we converted our popular “Propagation Wall” into a plant exchange. Guests are now encouraged and welcome to bring a cutting from home and exchange it for a rooted cutting already on the wall (donated from another plant lover sometime before). Sophia, our Lead Shopkeeper, has nicknamed this “Propping it Forward” (Propping = propagation, in case you missed that).
I absolutely love this, because Propping it Forward is the essence of the Botany spirit. Propping it Forward is what Lois did for me when she mailed those seeds. I like to say I've had "enablers" along the way: people who recognized how gardening and plants mattered to me and they empowered me to follow my curiosity. They provided me with tools, space, time, money, and freedom to experiment.
Sophia struck a nerve.
Here’s why. I often say plants have superpowers, and this is what I mean:
Plants are naturally generous, especially when we’re generous to them – just like people.
Plants help us mark the passage of time. They’re a mirror and a guide to help us see how the person we are today evolved from the person we were.
Plants remind us we’re connected, and they help us to connect. (I need to reach out to Lois and say hello…)
Plants remind us to remain hopeful because this, too, shall pass. (Whatever the “this” of the moment may be. Emphasis on “moment”.)
Plants remind us there’s strength in numbers, and one voice doesn’t feel as lonely when it’s surrounded by others who amplify that voice.
June 1st also marks the beginning of Pride Month. As a queer-owned business (learn more about what that means here, if you’re curious), I especially recognize the privilege we carry into the work we do. I’m one of the lucky ones, and I remind myself nearly every day. I have the good fortune to be able to know what I want people around me to feel: support, encouragement, and empowerment. I haven’t always been proud to like plants (or dudes), but I’m also not the same person I was ten years ago. I can be here today sharing this story because of the people and places that allowed me to get here. I want this for everyone, especially when it comes to plants.
Botany is on a mission to make it easier for people to grow plants, no matter where, how, or what they grow. We’re cultivating a connected community of empowered gardeners by reducing barriers to growing plants successfully.
In the weeks and months ahead, we’ll be sharing more of our vision by inviting you to share yours, because our community is at the core of what we hope to build. It’s all going to start with you, and we wouldn’t have it any other way. Propping it Forward is more than a tagline – it’s a mantra. Get ready to hear it a lot more.
The things we learn while caring for plants can and do transcend the soil. Thanks for being with us on this wild ride as we’ve begun to build Botany over the past year. Wherever we’re going, we’re glad you’re with us. To be honest, we hope we never get there, because this journey has been amazing.
Cheers to the journey. Onward.
P.S. If you really wanna Prop it Forward right this second, head on over and support Brain Lair Books latest apparel fundraiser for Everytown for Gun Safety. Here’s the link.