So the other day I’m wandering the
aisles of a large garden center—you know, one of those places that sells
knick-knacks and bric-a-brac, clothing and scented candles and patio furniture (always 50% off) alongside the
garden tools. I have a specific list of plants I’m looking for—this new garden
was in a partly-shaded, often boggy spot, and I did my homework ahead of time.
The place was huge, with what
seemed like acres of plants in color-coordinated pots. Still, I wasn’t having
much success. I couldn’t quite fathom the organization of the perennials, and I
couldn’t locate anything on my list.
While I was poking through the
irises, seeking Siberica, a young man begins scooping them up and loading them
on a large cart. “Hey,” I say, “where are you going with those irises?”
“We’re putting them on that table
over there,” he says, pointing.
“Oh. Is it okay if I look through
them?”
He shrugs. “I guess so.”
I continue the hunt—Germanica,
Germanica, dwarf Germanica. He continues loading the cart. Finally, I say, “Do
you know if you have any Siberian iris?”
“I’m new,”
he says. “Let me get somebody.”
He comes
back with another young man in tow, bearded, a little scruffy-looking. He pulls
out two tired-looking Siberian iris for my inspection.
“I was
hoping for white,” I say. “I have a lot of purple.”
“These are
the only ones we carry,” he says, with a bitter smile. “You can have any color
you want, as long as it’s purple.”
“Never mind,”
I say. “There are some other things I’m looking for.” I show him my list. “Belamcanda lily?”
He looks at
the list, looks at me, leans in close. “You know, if you want to get something
nice, you should go to Bremec’s,.”
Bremec’s is
a small, locally-owned greenhouse, and a bit of a drive.
“They have
a great selection of hard-to-find plants, and they’ll be in better shape,” he
confides. “See, around here, all the plants are the same.”
I blink at
him, confused.
He glances
around, then says, “All plants need the same watering schedule, the same light,
the same soil and fertilizer, know what I mean?”
“Ah,” I
say, “well, that’s where I made my mistake. I thought I needed to find plants
that like wet feet. And here I come to find out that any plant will do.”
His lips
twitch. “Exactly.”
“Well,” I say,” thanks for your
help.”
“Don’t mention it,” he says,
turning away. I’m sure he means that, literally. I wonder how much longer he’ll
last.
It reminded
me of that scene in the movie, Miracle on 34th Street, where the
Macy’s Santa tells the mom where she can
find the toy her son wants at a good price. And it’s not at Macy’s.
Those
lovers of books and plants and art and music and fine foods can the
brick-and-mortar stores’ biggest assets—they are the ones who understand that
books, and plants, and people are not all alike.
2 comments:
That is why I always so resolutely shop at Books of Wonder! Sure, I could get 10% off at Barnes and Noble. But at BoW, I can chat with the workers who love reading as much as I do, find ten books to read that I never meant to buy at all, and just feel surrounded by books and people who love them. Oh, and meeting my favorite authors is another bonus ;)
So funny. I used to work at a large garden center and it is really hard to stock fresh new plants. The CEOs are really set on have the same ol' set of colorful plants. It was really frustrating when I wanted something different. I never really thought of books in the same way. But I sometimes feel the same way you did at a library. They usually only have the most popular books and so sometimes when I want to read something a bit off mainstream I have to look elsewhere.
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