By Tim King

Special to the Leader

By the time you are reading this, if all goes according to plan, I will be happily knee deep in compost.

Well, actually not exactly knee deep, but I will be smelling that earthy aroma from deep within the walls of the Portland Flower Show. 

It seems like an eternity since I had the luxury of writing about such things as marigolds, plant sales and landscapes. Those truly were heady days when all I had to do was keep my eyes open and a worthy topic would appear right in front of me. By contrast, these last few months have been more of a challenge, considering I haven’t even been able to see my lawn since before Christmas.

Being new to the area, last year was the first time that I attended the flower show. I had thought about going the previous two years, but honestly I was always a little turned off by the title. For some reason, when I thought “flower show” I had images of little girls, sun dresses and tea parties all walking from table to table looking at bouquets and centerpieces. 

In other words, more foo-foo than poo-poo (oh, sorry I meant “composted manure”).

If only it was called the Portland Garden Show, or the Portland Landscape and Design Show, I would have been a fan from day one. Finally last year, itching for something to do outside of the house, I swallowed my ego and without telling anyone, walked over one rainy Saturday to take a look.

At the time, I figured the worst thing that could happen was that I’d be overwhelmed by the overpowering smell of one million Easter lilies. Sort of like the plant worlds equivalent to running “the gauntlet” at the mall perfume counter during Christmas.

What I found instead, were some truly amazing landscape designs, interesting plant applications and a bunch of hard-working, intelligent and personable people who were truly passionate about what they do. In fact, everyone from the “Mountain Mama” who was hawking all natural rejuvenation misting spray to the guy selling lightweight, ratcheting pruners, seemed happy as can be to talk with me about their stuff.

Plus, far from foo-foo bouquets, each one of the exhibits offered very realistic settings, filled with lots of real plants appropriate for our Maine climate, as well as examples of interesting sculpture that could be purchased locally too. 

Walking from display to display was like walking into a different world, yet it was easy to see how I could incorporate some of the ideas or concepts into my own back yard.

For example, there was a Japanese Tea Garden that provided the inspiration for me to stop battling with the incessant moss growing on the north side of my yard. The display garden showed a small, geometric design of cobblestone and moss that I had never seen before. 

I remember thinking to myself – why am I trying to remove something that is actually thriving in my yard naturally? After all, I bet most of the other people at the display were wishing they had yards with mossy sections to try and do the same thing.

So, this year I’ve been counting the days until I could once again lose myself for a few hours in the sights, smells and sounds of spring. 

Over the past few weeks, as one storm after another has pummeled our state, it’s all I can think of. What’s worse is that no matter how hard I try, I can ‘t seem to get the song “Anticipation” by Carly Simon out of my head. 

I also have a strange craving for Heinz ketchup.

Anticipation isn’t a bad thing, when taken in moderation, but it can set you up for disappointment too. Is there a worse feeling then when something you’ve been waiting for comes and goes and doesn’t live up to the (self induced) hype? 

Through the beauty of television, the boy in the Heinz ketchup commercial did end up totally enjoying his hot dog. But imagine how he would have felt if he waited the entire time and then realized his hot dog was still frozen solid.  

The important thing is to keep everything in perspective. 

So I am going to the show this weekend and I hope to thoroughly enjoy myself. I plan to take it all in, ask a bunch of questions, talk with some interesting people and get my minds eye acclimated to seeing green again. But I’ll also keep an eye on the window to the reality outside.

After all, I’ll leave the show and trudge back over ice covered streets and gray snow banks filled with sand, salt and exhaust fumes captured from passing vehicles. The cover to my pool will still be torn, half submerged under the weight of snow, ice water and leaves from last fall. 

The trees will still be bare a while longer and our Dana toboggan will still have a few more good runs in it.

But, as Bogart said to Bergman in Casablanca, “We’ll always have Paris,” we’ll always have the experiences of the Portland Flower Show – even as the icy rains of late March and April are pelting our windowpanes.

While the hopes and dreams of this small, local freelance writer may not amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world, I hope that you will take the time to find your “Paris” this year, wherever it is.

Now, please pass the ketchup.

Tim King is a freelance writer who sees the forest and the trees from his home in Scarborough. He can be reached at: sylvan.sauntering@gmail.com.