Posie Paralysis

Our eyes met briefly across the top of thousands of geraniums in a rainbow of colors. We bumped into each other about an hour later. We collided, back to back as we focused skyward on the hanging baskets obscuring the sun. She laughed and patted my hand. “You have it too?” she asked conspiratorially. Yes, I nodded wordlessly. We agreed that we were trapped in the complete inability to make a decision at the garden center and had no idea how to get out.

Every year it is the same: I am paralyzed by choice. Methodically, I visit my favorite local garden centers, spending hours among the hydrangeas, coleus, petunias and begonias. I am fond of making matching pots or baskets for the front porch and the back deck, so I find it challenging to search out the plants and flowers that complement each other. In the beginning, it was simple red geraniums. Everywhere. Then one year we went on vacation and the neighbor who was supposed to babysit my floral friends got distracted and the poor things withered and died of thirst. When I went to replace them, I discovered very little choice so late in the season and ended up with some winsome, miniature petunias. They were white and had sweet potato vines growing among the flowers in the pre-planted pots. End of summer sale – loved it! That fall, I discovered that those vines were not just decorative. We found frozen sweet potatoes in the pots when we went to empty them for the winter.

So, one would hope that after decades of this game, I would have learned sooner to overcome this ridiculous habit and make confident, speedy, pre-planned annual choices. Alas, it was only last year, but the trick I learned then reduced this year’s agony by weeks.

I had been prowling around Locust Glen Garden Center and was finally down to the last two baskets for my deck. I found one that had already been made up – with red geraniums, blue petunias and white lantana. It was festive and bright and perfect for July 4 decoration. Just when I thought I had gathered enough plants to create a matching basket, I spied some amazing purple and yellow flowers in a smaller container. I wavered, as I always do. After I put down the red, white and blue basket, I gathered the purple and yellow, but needed just one more yellow to make my matching set. Minutes turned into an hour and I still could not find the right plant. As I made my way around the corner of the building, I came upon a woman wearing work gloves, surrounded by hundreds of potting plants. She was elbow deep into a large, stone container, reaching for one of my yellow plants, when she noticed me watching her. I expressed complete envy of her eye and skill in putting those containers together to look so artful and unique. She smiled, handed me the yellow plant I needed from her already finished pot and said these three words: “thrill, fill, spill.”

Like so many things in life, the concept is simple and makes perfect sense. As with algebra, physics and the metric system, I would never have figured it out without help from a patient professional. Here is the key to potted plant perfection, the garden center goddess explained. This one, she said, is the tallest element in the pot and provides the thrill, the focal point of the arrangement. Next, you fill in the middle area with smaller scale plants, and finally, you add a plant or two with a horizontal habit so that it spills over the edge of the pot. I was elated to discover that I could easily duplicate her creations at home while chanting thrill, fill, spill, quietly to myself.

Now back to my new friend with the geraniums. She saw the lack of conviction in my eyes and tried to help. She pointed to a hot pink geranium that would have contrasted nicely with the yellow strawflower I was clutching. I thanked her for the suggestion and admitted that all I needed was a “spill” to complete my task. She stepped back a tiny bit, and hesitated before asking, “huh?” I explained the garden center mantra and she raised her hands in victory. I can do that, she told me. Indeed, I agreed. Wishing each other good luck and good gardening, we parted ways.

I left that place without my spill but found it on the way home while stopped at a traffic light. I saw the missing element to my container masterpieces through the fence but had to make plans to return. That second garden center was closed for the day. This year, I have added another helpful habit for myself: I draw a simple sketch and label the plants, including the year and location of purchase. Who knows, I might be able to get it all done in one day next year.