A few years ago, I decided I wanted a fern garden. Even with the heat, I figured I could keep them shaded, watered, misted, and they’d flourish. The ferns knew better. They held their own, but on a day when temps creep over 100, there were a few casualties and many brown, crispy fronds. It saddened me; what was I thinking—a fern garden? But this summer, we’ve had beach weather, cool temperatures, clouds—and yesterday, we even had rain! My ferns are ecstatic! New fronds are uncurling everywhere, on my big barrel-potted ferns, and even on my little maidenhair fern as delicate as it is.
This morning, under a heavy grey cloud cover, my ferns are smiling. They might think I’ve moved them to the coast or up to Seattle—they sigh in their pots, soft green fronds waving and new little ones springing forth beneath. I can hear them whisper, fern weather, fern weather—just for us.