Backyard Pleasures

No, I’m not growing marijuana — but I’m gardening in pots on my deck.

It is fun and affordable. It is also easy on the back when you don’t have to bend over too much or perch on your knees. In France and Italy, they have flowers and herbs stuffed into a variety of pots. I am continuing that tradition on my deck in Southampton.

Perennial herbs are coming up — chives, with their purple edible flowers, ubiquitous mint that could take over the world, and sage. Even my rosemary has survived the winter, with healthy, delicate blue flowers announcing its rebirth. I will add annuals, such as basil and dill, for a nice little kitchen cutting garden.

There is no greater luxury than gathering fresh basil for a homemade pesto or a handful of mint for tomato, cucumber and mint salad. Watermelon, feta cheese and mint make a refreshing summer salad.

Tomatoes and strawberries are good container candidates, and I have had luck with perennial rhubarb gifted from Bridge Gardens in Bridgehampton. Strawberry rhubarb crisp is a ritual in our house, with oats and brown sugar topping. Rhubarb, a vegetable, is known as a spring tonic for its positive health attributes. But the large leaves are poisonous, so stay away from them.

Multum in parvo, the Latin saying — a lot in a little — is the right description of my deck garden. I love all the pots lined up in random order in different sizes, with life flowing from its soil.

Vita Sackville West, gardener of Sissinghurst in England, would approve of my crammed pots overflowing with flowers and greenery. “Cram, cram, cram,” was her motto.

When friends come to visit, I cut fresh rosemary, basil and sage for them to take home. Lemon verbena is good for making tea. Tarragon enhances chicken dishes.

I supplement my garden with pots of orange geraniums from Nurel’s in Hampton Bays and begonias from Mrs. Halsey’s greenhouse. Two large pots of trumpet vine were added because it is known to be aggressive. After two years, I get an abundance of leaves but no orange flowers to match my orange-themed deck. I might try clematis, which is a good climber.

Our comfortable seating to admire my plants is from West Elm, and we have a French orange bistro table with two chairs. My husband found a triangular canvas sail that he affixed to the trellis and side of the house to provide shade.

It’s our outdoor living room. It is also our outdoor kitchen, with a Weber grill for cooking whole fish, seared tuna, swordfish, and baby lamb chops with a soy, balsamic vinegar and chopped mint marinade. (I don’t like the taste of charred grilled vegetables.)

Friends have contributed to my garden in pots. John, Peggy and Mary Ellen gave me big terracotta pots filled with herbs to add to my collection. They chose different herbs, like lemon verbena, oregano, lemongrass, and rue, an herb popular in the Middle Ages for its medicinal qualities. It was an effective anti-inflammatory. Shakespeare said, “Rue the day.” But I have no regrets about my delightful mini garden.

Gardening is an adventure, a discovery and a hope for the future. It is a way to be connected with the earth. It can be joyous when rosemary survives the winter and thrives, and sad when that lavender got too much water and died. It is a story of birth and death. Then go through the seasons and do it all again.

And then there are our bird friends. I wouldn’t call myself a birder, but my husband and I take great pleasure in watching our two bird feeders and birdbath in our backyard. I call it “bird theater.”

Of course, I know all the common birds — cardinal, blue jay, red winged blackbird, grackle, starling, and gray dove.

A family of house sparrows filled a nest with three babies in our Japanese-looking Hinoki Cypress tree. The mother lined them up on my white trellis fence right next to the two feeders full of seed and went back and forth, back and forth, feeding each one.

After a few days, two of the three found their way to the feeder, but the youngest, smallest one stayed to be fed by its mother. He or she finally made it to the feeder and feeds on the seed and suet we put out. The three started at light beige and are beginning to get their colors and variegated markings and stripes like the parents.

My daughter was visiting recently. I loved feeding her, so I know how that mama bird feels.

Now we watch as one of the three sits on the solar fountain in the birdbath and paddles around luxuriously like a pro riding the currents of the bay. The robins and sparrows frolic with abandon in the birdbath, and we keep having to fill it up with fresh water.

For the birds. For the birds is an idiom describing something as useless, meaningless, not worth consideration, unimportant. But the birds give us pleasure, and their antics amuse and delight us.

It’s almost summer, and the living is easy on our deck, eating, drinking, and bird watching. We can be outdoors until 8:30, when the sun starts to set.

Early to bed, early to rise, makes a man healthy, wealthy and wise.

Sage advice.