A Garden is a Garden

Gardeners are all basically the same. They have a desire to plant, prune, and pick. They're willing to learn about a subject that interests many people, but where few have an expertise. They have little difficulty getting dirty, sweaty, and tired in the pursuit of producing a plant or a flower or a fruit. And all gardeners must overcome some obstacles based on their local growing conditions.

Yesterday I had the supreme pleasure of walking through the San Diego Zoo. It's world-reknown for it's state-of-the-art displays of animals from all over the world. It is also a certified botanical garden. I thoroughly enjoy watching the animals as they lazily observe the humans pacing past, but I am enthralled by the abundance of flora necessary to sustain most modern zoos. San Diego excels at providing vegetative habitats that mimic natural environments from around the globe.

The zoo gardens are home to over 700,000 plants and all of them are growing on land that started as barren, hardpan soil. Before the zoo opened in 1916 they had to use dynamite to break up some areas of soil just to plant. I think about the hours that I spent by myself and with friends this year as we broke the hard, prairie sod around my fenceline and slowly incorporated organic matter to begin the process of creating new garden beds. The process can't be far-removed than that employed by the thousands of workers and volunteers over the years as they turned San Diego Zoo into such a botanical wonder.

Few of us are graced with the soil and climate that make gardening easy. I once lived in California's San Joaquin Valley where the growing is easy. I only half-joke that you can spit out a summer watermelon seed and have it sprout and grow a new crop of melons soon after it lands. In Colorado, growing requires planning, preparation, and perseverance. Plants need to be selected based on their suitability to the finicky climate; the soil needs help before anything will grow; and much effort is expended to ensure adequate water and protection is provided.

At first glance, it seems like the lush tropical forests in the San Diego Zoo have a perfect environment, but I know better. Someone, probably a chief horticulturist, is always worrying that the weather is too cold, or too dry, or too hot, or too wet. Many plants were selected based on esthetic qualities, but they had to be placed in the perfect location based on sun or shade, with microclimates a critical factor in their success. That isn't much different from what Colorado front-range gardeners encounter every day.

As I was entranced by the beauty of the zoo, I looked beyond the surface and thought about the gardeners behind the scenes. Their garden is much bigger and better maintained than mine, but we basically do the same thing. They can stand with pride and show their gardens to the world, but so can I. I know that I can grow plants that thrive in Colorado's high-altitude, dry, windy conditions; conditions a world removed from coastal, constant San Diego.

As I enjoyed the wonderment of the gardens, I have the thought that if their chief hoticulturist were to visit my gardens he or she would pause and enjoy what I have to offer. Effort and success in the gardening world is obvious to all gardeners. The beauty is universal. Instead of being intimidated by the 100 acres of plants in San Diego, I'm motivated and confident. And I saw a little of myself and all the gardeners I know in every corner of the zoo.

Gardeners are all basically the same. They have a desire to plant, prune, and pick. They're willing to learn about a subject that interests many people, but where few have an expertise. They have little difficulty getting dirty, sweaty, and tired in the pursuit of producing a plant or a flower or a fruit. And all gardeners must overcome some obstacles based on their local growing conditions.

Yesterday I had the supreme pleasure of walking through the San Diego Zoo. It's world-reknown for it's state-of-the-art displays of animals from all over the world. It is also a certified botanical garden. I thoroughly enjoy watching the animals as they lazily observe the humans pacing past, but I am enthralled by the abundance of flora necessary to sustain most modern zoos. San Diego excels at providing vegetative habitats that mimic natural environments from around the globe.

The zoo gardens are home to over 700,000 plants and all of them are growing on land that started as barren, hardpan soil. Before the zoo opened in 1916 they had to use dynamite to break up some areas of soil just to plant. I think about the hours that I spent by myself and with friends this year as we broke the hard, prairie sod around my fenceline and slowly incorporated organic matter to begin the process of creating new garden beds. The process can't be far-removed than that employed by the thousands of workers and volunteers over the years as they turned San Diego Zoo into such a botanical wonder.

Few of us are graced with the soil and climate that make gardening easy. I once lived in California's San Joaquin Valley where the growing is easy. I only half-joke that you can spit out a summer watermelon seed and have it sprout and grow a new crop of melons soon after it lands. In Colorado, growing requires planning, preparation, and perseverance. Plants need to be selected based on their suitability to the finicky climate; the soil needs help before anything will grow; and much effort is expended to ensure adequate water and protection is provided.

At first glance, it seems like the lush tropical forests in the San Diego Zoo have a perfect environment, but I know better. Someone, probably a chief horticulturist, is always worrying that the weather is too cold, or too dry, or too hot, or too wet. Many plants were selected based on esthetic qualities, but they had to be placed in the perfect location based on sun or shade, with microclimates a critical factor in their success. That isn't much different from what Colorado front-range gardeners encounter every day.

As I was entranced by the beauty of the zoo, I looked beyond the surface and thought about the gardeners behind the scenes. Their garden is much bigger and better maintained than mine, but we basically do the same thing. They can stand with pride and show their gardens to the world, but so can I. I know that I can grow plants that thrive in Colorado's high-altitude, dry, windy conditions; conditions a world removed from coastal, constant San Diego.

As I enjoyed the wonderment of the gardens, I have the thought that if their chief hoticulturist were to visit my gardens he or she would pause and enjoy what I have to offer. Effort and success in the gardening world is obvious to all gardeners. The beauty is universal. Instead of being intimidated by the 100 acres of plants in San Diego, I'm motivated and confident. And I saw a little of myself and all the gardeners I know in every corner of the zoo.