The window on certain kinds of nursery work is closing. The calendar tells me so. The sun's slant and the night insect songs remind me when I'm away from the calendar.

I'm looking at this year's crop and imagining next spring's stock, wondering what to pot up, what species to let slide. I like them all, well mostly.

Plants are like people. This is not new age smoke. Plants do have personalities. They thrive when in their chosen habitat. They can grow perfectly well under sub-optimal conditions when given a little extra care or resources, but maybe they have fewer bloomers, and leggier, leafier, more prone to ailments, less aromatic, less likely to produce offspring.

Like people, there are some plants that seem quite commonplace, but are truly needy outside of their chosen domain. Some are slow, stubborn. Some are exuberant except when mysteriously they are not. After years of being easy to grow, they just die. That's it. Dead. Some are what I like to think of as "Bang out of the gates" and they just keep running. They'd move into the house if they could.