Last week I had the joy of attending the Boston Flower Show at the Seaport Expo Center. I say that completely without sarcasm, (really) as it was such a delight to see so many lovely displays by area landscapers and nurseries and I even enjoyed the floral displays that usually leave me a little bewildered and perplexed . ( Let me clarify by saying I appreciate their beauty and the work involved, but the “art”,  themes ,and interpretation leave this simple gardener shaking her simple head).

As I walked around snapping the odd photo here and there, and talking to the other master gardeners there about what new and exciting things they saw, I started to think about the overwhelming-ness of it all. For instance, I have a perfectly wonderful magnolia that I enjoy immensely when it blooms for   three minutes in April ( if no late frost whacks it), yet here I stand gazing longingly at a new magnolia introduction ,whose name escapes me  but the vision of it’s deep purple blooms won’t leave my head. An urge comes over to hit the ground running trying to find  it in a nursey somehwere and rush home to squish it into the garden. That is, my friends, beyond all reason. Every year there will be so very many plants I do not have , need to have, and  just plain drool over. The point is you can not have them all. I must keep reminding myself to rein it in, there  is no more room, and the plants I already own are just perfect.

I think back to the well marketed beanie babies that were all the rage in the 90’s when my kids were little. The hype around the release of each new animal with a clever name and cuteness coming out it’s ears, added to the fact that you could not find them anywhere, made the draw irresistable to my offspring. Every extra penny was spent on them, every birthday wish list wasted on requests for them, every christmas stocking chock full of the little suckers, and there they sit in a box in my cellar.

Fast forward to the end of the endless  Winter 2010-11, right on the cusp of spring, when, after the 6 feet of snow have almost finally melted ,you can see the crocuses poking out their little purplely and yellow  heads and fat  buds ready to explode on the spring blooming trees and shrubs, and every gardener is at their most vulnerable with the promise of the season ahead of them dangling just days out of reach.

 Smart trade show people put together an irresistable combination ;the smell of dirt and mulch, the fragrance of  flowers we have been separated from for 6 long months, and the explosion of color and texture  arranged in picture perfect garden vignettes you long to linger and lounge in. And then they add in those elusive plants, the newest , the oddest, the most unique. The ones your gardening friends will be jealous you found, the ones that you and only you have, the ones  you blow a huge chunk of your garden budget on.It is madness and genius, and usually it gets me every time.

This year, though , I was too busy to buy much of anything. A few quick trips into the vendor aisles yeilded two tiny garden gnomes and a new wood and wire trug , that’s it. I took a picture of the magnolia, but refused to go find David Haskell ( the evil temptor) to get it’s name. I have thus far resisted the urge to google it. I am hoping to hold firm until it is a sweet memory. What do you think my chances are?