I’ve never been able to grow hardy cyclamen. I have several educated guesses, which I define as guesses forged in failure, as to why.
First, they came as frail, newly dug plants from generous friends. Having no reserves to counter whatever neglect followed a typically frenzied planting session, they simply disappeared. Also, cyclamen goes dormant (invisible!) when everything else is green (visible!). Therefore, they fell prey to whatever frenzied planting or weeding sessions later took place.
But the most correct guess is probably this: I wanted them too much, thought about them too much and tried too hard. All the best plants, I’m convinced, are just like most of my high-school girlfriends were. They get freaked out by too much attention. And then they die. (The plants, I mean. Not the girlfriends. They simply broke up with me. And then I died. A little. Each time.)
Anyway, I eventually met a girl I didn’t scare off, and, amazingly, we’ve been married for more than 40 years. Equally amazing: I was delighted to come upon some cyclamen casually growing in my garden this year. I had forgotten about them, and, more recently, had planted an epimedium almost on top of them. Close enough that the cyclamen got the message that maybe I didn’t really care if they lived or died. That, apparently, is exactly what cyclamen need to thrive. I believe they are now determined to show me what a fool I was by growing so beautifully.
Oh, how the tables have turned! They are now the insecure ones. It is they who are trying too hard.
Got to play it cool though. Delighted though I am to see live cyclamen growing in my garden, I refuse to make the same mistakes again. I walk past them briskly, furtively glancing from the corner of my eye. No stopping. No gawking. No showing them off to visitors. And I only take photos of them from way across the yard, using a telephoto lens. Even then, just a few. And no sharing them on Facebook, either.
And one more thing—not that I’m superstitious, but whenever I’m in the garden, I always wear the same t-shirt I had on when I first spotted them.
Now that I’m certain I can grow any plant I want to if I just don’t care about it enough, I’m going to try some daphnes again. And a sourwood. Maybe some alpines. And I’ll do my best to plant them wrong. I won’t try to match them with their so-called preferred conditions. Watering or any other care will be, at best, an afterthought.
The thing I’ll do the most in trying to grow them successfully will be to not try at all. TLC? Totally Lack of Care. Not for a single minute will they know how much I love and admire them, nor how pleased I am to have them in my garden.
It’ll be hard, but I’m going to try!
Illustration by Tom Beuerlein
