Have you a moment to look at a photo? As a photo, it's nothing. But it has a story to tell . . . a story about the joy of gardening.
First, let's look at the photo . . .
. . . as I said, it's far from memorable To you I'm sure it conveys nothing more than a few straggling seedlings in a pot on a window-sill. Nothing in the least remarkable.
But let me tell you their story. A week ago I took a handful of seeds - small, dark brown grains that looked incapable of life - and sowed them in this pot. I sprinkled compost on top, and kept them watered. Now, a matter of days later, I'm absolutely thrilled to see seven young shoots pushing through the surface - and there should be several more to follow.
Hardly earth-shattering, I agree. But what to you might appear as weeds, and nothing to make a fuss about, I see as a positive blaze of potential Morning Glory.
Not only do I see potential Morning Glory, but (so long as no fat pigeons come and sit on them!) my imagination is going overboard in picturing just what these plants will do and where they'll go.
A gardener loves to plan, and the soil of the imagination is very fertile. Remember last year's Sweet Peas? My imagination assures me that they'll have nothing on this year's Morning Glory! On the window-sill, to the left of the seedlings, is first a Lavender, and then a healthy Clementine, grown from a pip. To the right, is a small Olive tree. As the young seedlings grow into sturdy plants, they will reach out to the left and wind their delicate tendrils around the Lavender and the Clementine, at the same time festooning themselves over the supportive branches of the Olive. They will go on to entwine the drainpipe and, finally, frame my living-room window with trumpets of blue and white magnificence.
Don't worry, you'll be kept updated on their exuberant progress. The Chelsea Flower Show . . . ? Forget it! Come and have tea in my living-room!
True, the reality will never live up to my expectations. A gardener's imagination always outstrips the reality of her garden . But there's always next year . . . and the year after . . . and the year after that. And this, above all else . . . the planning, the sowing, the expectation . . . is the joy of window-sill gardening!
Put that tea appointment in your diary!