Sears, J.C. Penney, and Montgomery Ward would all send out their little books of temptations and I would retreat to my bedroom, paper and pencil in hand. There I would make my list of all the things I wanted for Christmas. I knew I wouldn't get them all - not even close - but it was still fun to make the list and dream.
So it is with the garden catalogs. I open the pages and my brain goes into fantasy mode, although I don't recognize it as such. In my mind, I really can grow a Crape Myrtle in my garden. If I just site it correctly and mulch it a lot, it's possible, right? And I do have enough room to grow 138 different flowers by seed, don't I?
Fortunately, reality slaps me in the face and I remember my resolution to garden smarter. I tell myself that I can't grow everything anyway, so I might as well grow the things that I know will do reasonably well. No use shooting myself in the foot.
Himalayan Blue Poppy. I'll likely continue to pursue that until I'm successful at getting just one bloom or they have to pry the trowel from my cold, dead hands, whichever comes first.
But no matter how beautiful and appealing some of the pretty pictures and plants are, I'll try to be strong and avoid putting the questionable ones in my virtual shopping cart.
It's kind of like me wearing a bikini in my 50s. I've done it, but that doesn't mean I should.