Bamboozled

                        Bamboozled 

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            I know that I said (quite plainly), “I am not going to buy any more pots for my plants.” I spoke these words quite sincerely, often, back when I had accumulated a total 100 (plus a small number) pots.  I counted several times, trying to be, wanting to be, wrong.

            Plants, flowers, bushes, have a done-by date, just as we do. Some I’ve pulled out by their dead roots and reused their containers. But I’ve also made changes in my garden, some of which require more containers.

            For example, in the beginning the east wall hosted my five dead trees. What an exercise in patience that has been. The first two years leaf-cutter ants stripped new leaves with regularity or seasonal rest left the twined trunks naked. Not pretty, my east wall.

So I added a clinging vine to cover the brick, made a narrow bed along the length and filled it with green and purple ground-cover leafy stuff. Oh, and five large clay pots with bamboo for greenery for those winter months when the dead trees appear dead, just in case. This year my dead trees are in full leaf and flower, beauties, every one, purple and white and pink.

Later I added a tasteful pot garden out by my wrought-iron backyard gate. The riot of colorful flowers is lovely against the black wrought-iron. Just a few new pots. Mostly, I moved older flowers from elsewhere.

Ah, bamboo. Lovely stuff. Bamboo demands pots, right? If bamboo is not contained, within too few months my entire back yard would be jungle. Yes, jungle. That is why I pot many of my plants, to keep them within set bounds.

Last year I invested in a thirty-year-old hot tub, spiffied it up, got it running. The tub sits in direct sight-line of the back gate. Private. Nobody is watching. Far as I know, nobody has seen me in the tub. However . . . Having discovered the marvelous screening properties of bamboo, I added four well-spaced potted bamboos to curtain my tub.

Genius move on my part. The bamboo also filters noise and dust. Amazing stuff, that bamboo.

May is our hottest month in Etzatlan. My casa is built of a little brick and a lot of windows. To say I live in a glass house is no exaggeration. I like the open, expansive feeling of living outdoors so I do not use window curtains.

However—there is always a “however” in life; ever notice? The afternoon summer sun beats into three of my wonderfully arched windows, creating a dry-sauna effect. It is only unbearable three or four hours of the day, so I have tried to buck up and bear it.

Last week the proverbial cartoon lightbulb appeared above my head. “Eureka! By gum, I’ve got it! I’ll plant bamboo curtains outside those three irksome windows.” (The other seven windows do not get the same sun blast.)

Well, more bamboo equals more pots, special pots. Hence a trip to Tonola in search of big rectangular pots, large enough for three bamboos each one.

I know a street along which pots, pots of every size and shape imaginable, line several blocks. We drove into the market section of Tonalo, turned left onto the “tiles and pots” street, drove about six blocks, parked smack dab in front of the a stack of pots the perfect size. Lovely unadorned natural clay.

When I see what I want, I look no further.  My pot transaction took five minutes.

Jorge, the welder, made ironwork stands with wheels for my pots, each pot a few centimeters over three feet long (Spanglish). The better to move them on dread window-washing days, my dear.

Leo planted three bamboos in each pot. Even as spindly baby bamboos, the plants filter the extreme sun-heat. In three months I’ll have a lush living curtain.

Sondra Ashton

HDN: Looking out my back door

May 2, 2018

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