I spent some time this morning stripping the anthers off my lilies. I always feel a bit guilty deflowering my flowers. Sure, it’s not like they’re going to reproduce. (I’ve already cut them for goodness sake.) But, I’ve stripped them of something that defines them. They’re still working to attract pollinators, to get some and give some, swelling and brightening in the most optimistic, yet desperate way. And, just like that, I casually pluck away at their potential.
I’m reminded of my husband, and the things I do for me that sometimes take away from him. Now, I’m not talking about our sex life, per se. I’m talking about being open to, even nurturing, his desire and potential in the larger sense. In the terms he defines. In the ways he strives to express it. What things do I, habitually, mindlessly, that diminish him — always in service to my own needs or interests? And what about the other people I care about? What would my life be like if I tried to control things less?
Maybe this should be Gardening Resolution #5. Consider what the garden wants. Let go a little.
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Martha taught me to remove the anthers. I blame her for my guilt. Don’t you?
2012 Gardening Resolutions 1, 2, 3.
2012 Gardening Resolution 4.
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1. Why do you strip the anthers? Is it aesthetics? Do they last longer? Is it so the pollen doesn’t make a mess?
2. Your resolution is interesting. Doesn’t the garden always want to be wild? Isn’t gardening intrinsically fighting the core nature of the garden?
@Ryan,
1. I strip them so the pollen doesn’t make a mess. Some people say it makes the flowers last longer, especially if you’re changing out the water every day.
2. The landscape wants to be wild. A garden is only a garden if it is cultivated in some way. The question I’m asking myself is, what would “my garden” be like if I didn’t try so hard to make it INTO something. I’m talking about listening more to the landscape around us and to the land itself — anthropomorphizing the garden and connecting to what it once was. Asking or somehow just seeing What it wants to be. As people, we want to be ourselves. As people, we want others to help us be ourselves. If the garden felt that way, what would it be and what would it ask of me to help make it/let it be so?
The immediate thought I have is native grasses, succulents and wildflowers. A xeric, “passive” garden. You’ve seen the space and you’re native to this landscape yourself. What do you think?