Who is Fred C. Boutin, Anyway?
By Kim Johnson
Garden designers are forever giving out unhelpful advice, advice designed to weaken the backs of real gardeners everywhere. “If you are going to plant 30 tulips you might as well make an impact and plant 300.” The only impact I see is the one in my lower lumbar area, where the vertebrae continually press together. Sure 300 tulips massed together in the spring is beautiful, but hard to enjoy when you can no longer stand upright.
I succumbed to designer pressure when I saw a lovely illustration of a lavender walk in a garden magazine. It was an illustration, I thought wryly, because no one would actually dig 40 holes on each side of a country lane. That is 80 holes of back-breaking labor. Not to mention the buying and carting home of 80 lavender plants, soil amendments, course gravel for drainage; I am forever with the drainage. I settled on 12 plants, only a fraction of the original design, 6 on each side, okay maybe 14, 7 on each side because things in nature look better in odd number groupings.
I whistled a tune as I surveyed my garden. The perfect spot for a lavender walk presented itself immediately with one drawback: the walk was a little longer than I anticipated. Sixteen plants would be needed. No more than 16, I promised myself, 8 on each side---forget the odd number grouping. Making an impact here.
I immediately began the best part of garden design. I searched for the perfect lavender plants online, in books, at garden centers, in other people’s gardens. I settled on the Fred C. Boutin variety. The long stems and attractive foliage would be perfect for my little lavender walk. I promptly tossed out my plan and bought 18 plants, remembering that 9 on each side really would look better what with that whole odd number is better in nature business. Eighteeen holes wouldn't be that bad. Eighteen holes was do-able. Like a round of golf. Eighteen holes with Fred C. Boutin wafting long stems in the breeze on a summer day practically spelled impact. So engrossed in the vision, I tossed out of my mind, the impact digging 18 holes would have on my lumbar region.
It turns out that digging 18 holes, 9 on each side of the walk, was repetitive physical labor designed to cause hallucinations. Five holes into my 18 and my mind began to wander. Who was this Fred C. Boutin anyway? I tried to picture him. I thought I saw him. Digging 18 holes will do that to you. I wasn't even half way done digging, not to mention the incorporation of soil amendments, course gravel for drainage and there was the matter of retrieving 18 lavender plants from the back of my truck. Humph. Fred C. Boutin. To break up the monotony I trucked several lavender plants from my truck and lined them up for inspiration. They could watch me dig. Fred could watch me dig. Apparently I was hallucinating.
Seven more holes. I was more than half way done, wasn't I? I was too tired to do the math. I amended a few of my first holes and planted Fred C. Boutin in them. Fred was beautiful. I was inspired to keep digging. Three more holes, must improve drainage. Impact, going for impact. I popped in a few more Freds. Things were taking shape. I had a lavender walk going here. Fred would surely approve.
Somewhere around hole 16 I began to wonder about Fred. Why did he have a lavender named after him? Did he invent it? I was pretty sure that lavender was discovered and not invented. Maybe he discovered it. Maybe there was a romantic story behind it like the Peace Rose, the last rose flown out of Europe during World War II. Maybe Fred had been in the war. Maybe the French Foreign Legion. They have a lot of lavender in France. Surely lavender was discovered before the French Foreign Legion was invented. Fred wasn't even a French name.
I popped a few more Freds in their holes and got around to reading the tag attached to the plant itself. “1968-79 Fredrick C. Boutin was a botanist at the Huntington Botanic Gardens in Pasadena, CA. After he left there, he came across a previously unnamed lavender and proceeded to clone it. Thus Fred C. Boutin Lavender was introduced to the world in 1984 and has become a long stemmed favorite among lavender collectors.”
That was it? He was a cloner? I kept digging. Incorporating amendments, popping Freds in holes. The French Foreign Legion was a better story. Fred could have crawled his way out of the desert of Africa with only a sprig of lavender for inspiration. Maybe he fell in a well and had to climb out with only a sprig of lavender for inspiration. Cloner. Humph.
I kept digging. Amending, incorporating drainage. Thinking of Fred. That Cloner. I popped in a few more Freds, dug hole 18, amended it, ignored the back pain, the blister on my thumb. I gave up trying to stand up straight. Fred was probably hunched over the entire time he was in that well in Africa. Almost there, I popped the last Fred into place. I felt just like Fred the time he crawled out of the desert. Lavender was so inspiring.
I straightened up as much as I could to view my work. 18 holes, like a round of golf, only it had taken 4 times longer. The effect was dazzling. It had impact. In a few months the lavender walk would be alive with bees, the long stems would sway in the breeze. I dragged myself to the house. Maybe Fred hadn't been in the Foreign Legion but he did clone one heck of a lavender. Cloner. Humph.
RR0110
By Kim Johnson
Garden designers are forever giving out unhelpful advice, advice designed to weaken the backs of real gardeners everywhere. “If you are going to plant 30 tulips you might as well make an impact and plant 300.” The only impact I see is the one in my lower lumbar area, where the vertebrae continually press together. Sure 300 tulips massed together in the spring is beautiful, but hard to enjoy when you can no longer stand upright.
I succumbed to designer pressure when I saw a lovely illustration of a lavender walk in a garden magazine. It was an illustration, I thought wryly, because no one would actually dig 40 holes on each side of a country lane. That is 80 holes of back-breaking labor. Not to mention the buying and carting home of 80 lavender plants, soil amendments, course gravel for drainage; I am forever with the drainage. I settled on 12 plants, only a fraction of the original design, 6 on each side, okay maybe 14, 7 on each side because things in nature look better in odd number groupings.
I whistled a tune as I surveyed my garden. The perfect spot for a lavender walk presented itself immediately with one drawback: the walk was a little longer than I anticipated. Sixteen plants would be needed. No more than 16, I promised myself, 8 on each side---forget the odd number grouping. Making an impact here.
I immediately began the best part of garden design. I searched for the perfect lavender plants online, in books, at garden centers, in other people’s gardens. I settled on the Fred C. Boutin variety. The long stems and attractive foliage would be perfect for my little lavender walk. I promptly tossed out my plan and bought 18 plants, remembering that 9 on each side really would look better what with that whole odd number is better in nature business. Eighteeen holes wouldn't be that bad. Eighteen holes was do-able. Like a round of golf. Eighteen holes with Fred C. Boutin wafting long stems in the breeze on a summer day practically spelled impact. So engrossed in the vision, I tossed out of my mind, the impact digging 18 holes would have on my lumbar region.
It turns out that digging 18 holes, 9 on each side of the walk, was repetitive physical labor designed to cause hallucinations. Five holes into my 18 and my mind began to wander. Who was this Fred C. Boutin anyway? I tried to picture him. I thought I saw him. Digging 18 holes will do that to you. I wasn't even half way done digging, not to mention the incorporation of soil amendments, course gravel for drainage and there was the matter of retrieving 18 lavender plants from the back of my truck. Humph. Fred C. Boutin. To break up the monotony I trucked several lavender plants from my truck and lined them up for inspiration. They could watch me dig. Fred could watch me dig. Apparently I was hallucinating.
Seven more holes. I was more than half way done, wasn't I? I was too tired to do the math. I amended a few of my first holes and planted Fred C. Boutin in them. Fred was beautiful. I was inspired to keep digging. Three more holes, must improve drainage. Impact, going for impact. I popped in a few more Freds. Things were taking shape. I had a lavender walk going here. Fred would surely approve.
Somewhere around hole 16 I began to wonder about Fred. Why did he have a lavender named after him? Did he invent it? I was pretty sure that lavender was discovered and not invented. Maybe he discovered it. Maybe there was a romantic story behind it like the Peace Rose, the last rose flown out of Europe during World War II. Maybe Fred had been in the war. Maybe the French Foreign Legion. They have a lot of lavender in France. Surely lavender was discovered before the French Foreign Legion was invented. Fred wasn't even a French name.
I popped a few more Freds in their holes and got around to reading the tag attached to the plant itself. “1968-79 Fredrick C. Boutin was a botanist at the Huntington Botanic Gardens in Pasadena, CA. After he left there, he came across a previously unnamed lavender and proceeded to clone it. Thus Fred C. Boutin Lavender was introduced to the world in 1984 and has become a long stemmed favorite among lavender collectors.”
That was it? He was a cloner? I kept digging. Incorporating amendments, popping Freds in holes. The French Foreign Legion was a better story. Fred could have crawled his way out of the desert of Africa with only a sprig of lavender for inspiration. Maybe he fell in a well and had to climb out with only a sprig of lavender for inspiration. Cloner. Humph.
I kept digging. Amending, incorporating drainage. Thinking of Fred. That Cloner. I popped in a few more Freds, dug hole 18, amended it, ignored the back pain, the blister on my thumb. I gave up trying to stand up straight. Fred was probably hunched over the entire time he was in that well in Africa. Almost there, I popped the last Fred into place. I felt just like Fred the time he crawled out of the desert. Lavender was so inspiring.
I straightened up as much as I could to view my work. 18 holes, like a round of golf, only it had taken 4 times longer. The effect was dazzling. It had impact. In a few months the lavender walk would be alive with bees, the long stems would sway in the breeze. I dragged myself to the house. Maybe Fred hadn't been in the Foreign Legion but he did clone one heck of a lavender. Cloner. Humph.
RR0110
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