Gardening is slow going. Drop a seed; harvest a carrot. In between there’s watering, weeding, waiting. No chase scene, no explosion, no big reveal.
The jump-cut can be spliced together from sprouted potato, zucchini seedling or cabbage transplant. Speeds things along. A little.
Still, it’s less action flick than documentary: plodding.
The storyboard for my own garden rom-com calls for copious hedges, the better to background frolic or picnic. But little boxwoods take time, and big boxwoods take money.
Never miss a local story.
Then the guy at the garden center let me in on strike propagation.
Plot twist! Snip a clipping, dip it in rooting powder, plant. Turning one shrub into dozens. I stayed out past midnight, clipping, dipping, digging. I decided to hedge every bed. I envisioned a box-office hit: “Gardeners With Borders.”
Turns out not every plant likes to be snipped. Not every clipping likes to be dipped. But working out the details has turned my summer into a thriller.