For years I had heard about the Philadelphia Flower Show. My parents went every spring. My sister went several times with friends. It is an annual rite of spring for my sister-in-law and her husband. Many of my friends go with the Maryland Horticultural Society, Superior Tours or Roland Park Country School groups. Some gardeners I know are judges.

For years I had heard rave reviews of flowering trees, fountains, massive trees brought in for the event, every blooming thing under the sun. For years I hesitated to go for fear of being overwhelmed by so much horticultural splendor in one place.

Last year, my brother-in-law-to-be asked me to join him and his wife. I did not know what to expect, so I decided to be prepared.

“Wear comfortable shoes,” was the singular advice from the chorus of experienced flower-show-goers. I bought a new pair of my favorite walking shoes. I broke them in gradually around the house and on Roland Avenue. I read books such as Tom Turner’s “Garden History” and Katharine White’s classic “Onward and Upward in the Garden.”

I declined a ride to the show. I wanted morning quiet and the solitude of a train ride to center myself before encountering what had built up in my mind to be one of the great wonders of the world.

The night before departure I packed Band-Aids and socks in a tote bag, a bottle of water, slices of apple and cookies, acetaminophen in case of overstimulation, sunglasses for any glaring fluorescent lights and a pair of foam inserts if my feet needed cushioning as the day wore on.

I packed a paperback novel, a notepad and a pen. I decided to leave the camera home. On my first trip I would simply look.

Look is what I did. I began the 10-acre tour with the less crowded displays of specimen plants; every ivy, perennial begonia and heuchera imaginable. Next came pressed flower pictures created by flower and foliage, seedpods and colorful skins of oranges, strawberries and apples. Behind them were plant environments of a teddy bear’s picnic, a vacation home and an equestrian scene.

Later came window boxes, full of cascading Swedish ivy and chartreuse sweet potato vines that led me to a spring garden with hundreds of almost too-sweet-smelling hyacinths, flaming red and yellow tulips and hosts of golden daffodils. A winter wonderland featured flowers covered by a layer of artificial snow.

Next came a pond surrounded by a green lawn, bonsai gardens, a floratopia tree (a 16-foot “tree of life” made from cut flowers), a garden dancing with slinkies and silver air-conditioning tubes, and a volcano garden with the sound of an eruption.

Finally, I reached the show’s centerpiece: a reclining, curvaceous, 60 foot “Natura,” the goddess of spring, comprised of hundreds of thousands of flowers, trees and leafy plants. Fortunately, a wall of chairs was nearby, so I sat and marveled at the abundant plant materials and curves of “Natura,” a far cry from the scrawny models of another industry.

I could have returned home with an armload of pussy willow, but my neighbor is always generous with hers. While roses sold for only $6 a dozen, they would have drooped by the time I returned to Baltimore. I settled for packs of larkspur and nasturtium seeds, easy to slip in the pocket book, as souvenirs of an inspiring show.

source : news.mywebpal.com