Hosta Mama

Prior to pandemic times, I had been taught many “mindfulness” skills that have helped me immensely. Breathing, meditating, yoga, drinking wine, eating ¼ of the cupcake batter and about ⅓ of the frosting…. Yeah, I know, that last one is more awful than mindful. But, there are only so many deep breaths you can take before your mind wanders to the taste sensation that is Duncan Hines’ Strawberry Supreme cake mix. What about salmonella you ask? Don’t be silly. I consume my portion prior to adding in the eggs. I’m not stupid.

I make up for my wayward sweet tooth by engaging in a ridiculous number of household and parenting activities. One such activity has led me out of the kitchen and down a healthier path. Want to know how? I’ll tell you. A while back, a friend posted a picture of a blue hosta that was growing in her garden. Then, on a walk one day, I encountered a blue hosta that looked as though it had fallen directly out of the Triassic Era. The massive leaves, blue tint, the way it held water droplets—all of these qualities combined to make me fall madly in love and thus created a new summer mission.

When I began digging away at our garden, I went a little crazy. I soon found myself ripping out dead-ish shrubs, unloved lilies, and half-alive trees. The tree tackle was particularly difficult and I’m sure I had the neighbors talking with that one. I eventually made my way to Wyman’s, our local garden center. There, I met a knowledgeable woman who admired the Panicle Hydrangeas I had chosen. My eyes scanned the hosta section and not a blue one could be found. “Do you have any blue hostas?” I asked her. “We did but they’ve all sold.” I wasn’t surprised. She then told me about Cochato Nursery in Holbrook, a place where there promised to be about 600 varieties of hostas. With that, she had my full attention.

Like Captain Ahab in search of his white whale, I set my sights on a day that would allow a visit to this hosta haven. My kids were not nearly as excited as I was but I didn’t care. I can be myopic and focused when I want to be and this was one of those times. When we arrived at Cochato, it was as though we had fallen into a very delicate sliver of peace on this earth. There, the shade protects the plants, the electric train that makes its rounds, and koi that swim in their little ponds. Isaac was immediately in love with the train and regretted all his complaints he had uttered en route. I was entranced by the number of different hostas that greeted me. There were so many and with names like Purple Haze, Guilt by Association, Mr. Blue, and Cutting Edge, it was hard to know which ones to choose. “That’s a beautiful cart you have there” the owner said as he admired my selection. It wasn’t a sales pitch, it was pure affection for these green and blue beauties that were going to a new home. It almost seemed like he was a little sad; I promised to take good care of them.

About a week after my hosta adoption and subsequent planting (which included a blue hosta!), I began to reflect on exactly why I had honed in on this genus. The answer was simple: you can’t kill the hosta. I mean, you can try. But, chances are, no matter how much you neglect these suckers, they’ll find a way back year after year, filling a void in your garden and basking in the shade of your pines, maples, and oaks. It is the sure thing of gardening, the plant that will never betray you. Coincidentally, the hosta symbolizes devotion. How very apropos.

After a couple weeks of literal blood, sweat, and occasional tears, we have the beginning of a new era in our garden. During a time of so much unrest, whatifs, and whatabouts, my new hosta children (and the ones we already had) are symbols of hope and the persistence and perseverance of life on this planet—even when we royally screw things up and the chain of being shifts out of order. My time in the garden shields my eyes and ears from the worries that are plaguing all of our minds and I’m thankful for the mindfulness that this healthy activity provides. My advice if feeling overwhelmed? Go to Cochato Nursery in Holbrook, buy some hostas, and dig in the dirt.

Now, let’s talk about daylilies.