The Coastal Gardener:

Editor’s note: No plants were harmed in the writing of this fictitious column.

Everyone who gardens understands the loss of a loved one, or two or three ... or 100.

At this week’s “group therapy” meeting, a “new member” made a heartfelt confession, one that might help others. Perhaps it sounds familiar. Here’s her story:

“What I am about to confess to all of you may shock and upset you, but I have to get it off my mind. Hello. My name is Jane, and I am a serial killer. (The group responds, ‘Hello, Jane.’) There it is, out in the open for all to know. I have been hiding this for years. Confession is good for the soul, and the first step toward recovery, right?

“It started small enough, innocent enough, many years ago. I didn’t plan on becoming the killer that I am now. I thought I was different, that I wouldn’t go through life being a ruthless, cold-blooded murderer, but it is who I am. I have hurt so many. I will always have this stain on my soul, and I seem to be powerless; there is nothing I can do about it.

“I didn’t start on small animals, like most killers do. No, I started on even smaller than animals. I started with seeds.

“Tiny little innocent seeds. Seeds that couldn’t even fight back, whose only hope was to someday grow big and tall and strong and to bloom and spread joy in the world. To bring smiles and pleasure to others. Little did they know that when I took them home, all hope of a future was gone.

“In those early days it was easy for me to murder a seed. I did it with no remorse, unaware of my actions. I’d just stick them in the dirt, according to instructions and watch them die. Little did they know. They were as good as dead the moment I buried them.

“When I lost interest in watching little seeds die, I moved on to seedlings. Small, infant plants that were full of young life and impatient about their futures, wanting to grow big and tall. Not even in the adolescence of their little lives do I have mercy.

“I sometimes plant them in pots. Then I set them in front of the window where they can see all their brothers and sisters and friends. They grow a little taller and even lean gently toward the sunshine on the other side of the window. But soon they realize that the world outside that glass wall will never be theirs. I never let them know the feel of raindrops on their leaves or a breath of fresh air. I can almost hear their pathetic whimpers before they shrivel and give up, losing their will to live. Next week, another one will take its place on the windowsill.

“I often bring lost and orphaned plants home, plucked from their nurseries. Planted into my garden, they struggle for life. For a while they persist, but in the end I murder them like all the rest. (Jane pauses for a moment.) I’m sorry; this is difficult for me to talk about.

“There is one plant in the garden, a gardenia, that I have been slowly torturing for more than six years now. It’s a sturdy guy, with a strong will, but I think it’s slowly giving in. It’s interesting to see a victim with such a strong will to live, one that’s held on for so long.

“From its corner spot, the gardenia has seen so much; seen many come and go. They never last long, these others. That poor gardenia has seen so many murders; so many slow, wilting deaths; so many atrocities.

“I don’t know how to stop this killing spree. It has grown beyond my control. It continues. My compost pile is a thorough recounting of my methodical destruction of life. It doesn’t matter how many self-help books I read, how many people I seek advice from, or how many tips I hear, this murderous life I lead.

“These words will sift through my mind like ghostly images when I visit another nursery, looking at a healthy, perfect plant, so full of life, which will look so lovely next to the gardenia.

“I need help.

“Then again, maybe I should just finish the job on the gardenia. It knows too much.”

Ask Ron

Question:

I have a ficus and a jacaranda that both need to be pruned. What time of year is appropriate for each tree? Can they be pruned at the same time of year?

Answer:

I would prefer pruning both of these trees during the summer or early fall, after the jacaranda finishes its bloom. Both of these trees are subtropical and not very cold hardy. Although unlikely, pruning them in the cool months could subject them to cold weather damage. Also, I never like to prune large trees in the spring or early summer because of the possibility of nesting birds at that time of year.

ASK RON your toughest gardening questions, and the expert nursery staff at Roger’s Gardens will come up with an answer. Please include your name, phone number and city, and limit queries to 30 words or fewer. E-mail stumpthegardener@rogersgardens.com, or write to Plant Talk at Roger’s Gardens, 2301 San Joaquin Hills Road, Corona del Mar, CA 92625.

RON VANDERHOFF is the Nursery Manager at Roger’s Gardens, Corona del Mar.