This morning I tackled my flowerbeds.
They've been there, waiting for me, for weeks, and it was only last night's firm decision to venture out that stirred me from the stupor of an overcast sleepy morning.
Lil' Snip kept me company, wandering around in his inadequate Crocs through still-dewy grass while I pulled henbit and chickweed from the scanty irises and emerging hosta. I uncovered a spiderwort that I'd forgotten about. Divided and transplanted a primrose in full flower. Made a pile of sticks for our bonfire pile.
My winter-stiff gardening gloves grew slick and supple from the moist soil and lush weeds, and before I knew it, all that was left in the flowerbed was flowers, and it was time for Lil' Snip's morning crib-time.
I lounged with my laptop while he played in his crib, Sugar and Spice playing Legos in the next room.
My Farmer and Nice came home from the dentist and he & I drank coffee and sampled the truffles he'd found at the dent-n-bent store, while Nice busied herself opening all the packages of toothbrushes and toothpaste.
When he could delay it no longer, my Farmer headed in to work, and Lil' Snip and I headed back out to the next flowerbed, beckoning the Lego Ladies (a.k.a. Sugar and Spice) to come join us. Nice finished watering the plants in the sunporch and came out to join her sisters in fort-building.
Lil' Snip found a [child-sized] hoe and told me he would "shovel" with me. I found a spot near me where he could do no harm, and he "shoveled" away while I attacked the rosebed. Wild strawberries flourished here with henbit and creeping charlie and virginia creepers - apparently all the leaf litter makes that bed a vine paradise. I pulled and pulled, uprooting all manner of trespassers with abandon, starting from the edges and ruthlessly working my way back. Lil' Snip called encouragement from time to time: "We're doing good, Mommy! Good!"
I filled a wheelbarrow with my weeds.
Finally you could see clearly the daffodils I'd put in last year, the tolerant ferns that refused to die despite my neglect, even some columbine that had braved the jungle. The chrysanthemum had mysteriously disappeared (not the first one in my care to do so), and some feverfew that had been there apparently accompanied the henbit to the rubbish heap in the wheelbarrow. Humph, well, it shouldn't look so much like a weed!
Next I approached my eight-year-old Don Juan rose, pruners in gloved hand. No time to read up on rose-pruning. I knew myself: it was now or never. I cut off obviously dead bits, snipped off crossed or inward-growing branches, and topped the ones that towered above my head. It was an experiment in horticulture that I could only hope worked out.
About then Sugar called over to me: "It's time to go in!!" Where had the time gone? Lunchtime already?!
Lil' Snip and I dumped the weeds behind the shop while his sisters went inside to make lunch. He showed me where our Polish crested chicken has hidden a nest; I had to make myself as small as he is to see her!
We went in, glowing, to put away our tools and wash up. Nothing like a little sunshine and dirt to make you feel pleasantly virtuous.
Showing posts with label gardening. Show all posts
Showing posts with label gardening. Show all posts
dirt
At the end of each day, my husband and children and I gather on the sofa (we can still all fit, if laps are involved) and, among other things, talk about the best parts of our day.
Dirt was my highlight, today.
I went outside, initially, to pawn Lil' Snip off onto Sugar. I had stuff inside I wanted to do (as usual). But, once outside, I was invited to view a catfood-making enterprise, starring soaked corn gleaned from the fields around us. Then there were the bikers, lost on country roads, who were desperate enough to consult my 10-year-old for directions. And then .... I saw the weeds. One thing always leads to another ...
I had seen the weeds before, of course, but somehow they didn't register until I viewed them with my mother-in-law present. This morning when she came to whisk Spice away for a day out, Nice urged her to accept a chrysanthemum, which somehow led to us all admiring the (weed-choked) plants. THEN I saw the weeds!
So when I saw them again, later that morning, I thought I might as well do something [small] about it. It always starts so innocently: I'll just pull out a few of the larger grasses so we can see the mums better.
And before you know it, twenty minutes have passed, the children are all helping with gusto, and my fingernails are black with dirt. Glorious, actually. I felt invigorated.
As a bonus, when I turned around to survey my newly visible lavender, hosta, and chrysanthemum bed, I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a scrap of palest violet under the star magnolia by the end of the wall. Could that be - ?!
It was - the saffron bulbs (corms?) that I had planted while my daughters held a flashlight for me one night last fall, the ones that I had searched for in vain during a mid-summer weed-cleansing, had come up! They had actually bloomed, these little dainties I had given up for lost!! I applied my grimy nails to grubbing out the grass and creeping Jenny that had grown up under the magnolia, and soon found all twelve corms (bulbs?), each sprouting a translucent tube of emerging glossy dark-green spike-leaves. And two blooms, complete with fragrant crimson stigmas (thank you, wikipedia - I was going to call them stamens....) destined for a pot of chicken corn soup this winter. Ahhh .... that was worth the stained fingernails!
We'll be looking for more blossoms soon. More stigmas for our soup.
That's some good dirt.
Dirt was my highlight, today.
I went outside, initially, to pawn Lil' Snip off onto Sugar. I had stuff inside I wanted to do (as usual). But, once outside, I was invited to view a catfood-making enterprise, starring soaked corn gleaned from the fields around us. Then there were the bikers, lost on country roads, who were desperate enough to consult my 10-year-old for directions. And then .... I saw the weeds. One thing always leads to another ...
I had seen the weeds before, of course, but somehow they didn't register until I viewed them with my mother-in-law present. This morning when she came to whisk Spice away for a day out, Nice urged her to accept a chrysanthemum, which somehow led to us all admiring the (weed-choked) plants. THEN I saw the weeds!
So when I saw them again, later that morning, I thought I might as well do something [small] about it. It always starts so innocently: I'll just pull out a few of the larger grasses so we can see the mums better.
And before you know it, twenty minutes have passed, the children are all helping with gusto, and my fingernails are black with dirt. Glorious, actually. I felt invigorated.
As a bonus, when I turned around to survey my newly visible lavender, hosta, and chrysanthemum bed, I saw, out of the corner of my eye, a scrap of palest violet under the star magnolia by the end of the wall. Could that be - ?!
It was - the saffron bulbs (corms?) that I had planted while my daughters held a flashlight for me one night last fall, the ones that I had searched for in vain during a mid-summer weed-cleansing, had come up! They had actually bloomed, these little dainties I had given up for lost!! I applied my grimy nails to grubbing out the grass and creeping Jenny that had grown up under the magnolia, and soon found all twelve corms (bulbs?), each sprouting a translucent tube of emerging glossy dark-green spike-leaves. And two blooms, complete with fragrant crimson stigmas (thank you, wikipedia - I was going to call them stamens....) destined for a pot of chicken corn soup this winter. Ahhh .... that was worth the stained fingernails!
We'll be looking for more blossoms soon. More stigmas for our soup.
That's some good dirt.
the lady I met at the park today
I love people. So varied, with so many stories to tell. Especially, I suppose it goes without saying, older people (more years, hence, more stories to tell).
Today, my mom drove down to my house to watch my children while I ran some errands and took some much-needed time off my job (but you other mommies know all about that). In the morning I took Nice, my youngest daughter, to a great bulk-foods store that's out of our usual path, so that I haven't gone but once since Lil' Snip's birth a year ago. We had a lovely time, the highlight for Nice being the dried pineapple ring she got to eat on the way home, I think.
In the afternoon, I free-styled.
First I went to the discount grocery in search of dark chocolate (success! Newman's Own organic espresso dark chocolate!!) and then hit the library to pick up the books they regularly import from other libraries for insatiable, grateful me.
[plug: I LOVE the library!! all the books a person could want, free for the borrowing, nice people with whom to chat and swap book recommendations, and air conditioned comfort for temporarily escaping the responsibilities of home life.]
Then I was off in search of a restful place to read and daydream (people-watching optional).
The park was loaded with large children on the loose for the summer and rather lacked the serenity I sought. I drove on.
I remembered a smaller park a friend had showed me, hidden in the center of a residential area, and began threading my way up and down streets and alleys till I found it. There were two other parties there - a mom with two young daughters in matching dresses, and an anonymous driver napping in an SUV.
I parked and found a bench in partial shade. When my legs fell asleep, I moved to the grassy hillside, and read till it was almost time to go home. On my way out, I noticed an older lady weeding one of the flowerbeds and stopped to express my appreciation of the park's well-kept appearance.
As we chatted, she wondered if she had heard me laugh over my book, and what I was reading. We traded favorite authors-of-the-moment (Alexander McCall Smith and Richard Paul Evans), and talked about the best spots to plant hydrangea (partial shade, wettish soil) and why our rosebushes' blooms looked "crippled" this year (too much rain?).
She recommended the parks' summer concerts to me and took me to her house across the way to give me her program. I admired the green glass bottles on the windowsill (I collect blue). We chatted our way back to the park and she said she'd look for me at the next concert.
It is so easy to find new friends. It takes so little effort - a smile and a compliment - and yields such satisfying results. Behind every unknown face is a story waiting to be told, similarities waiting to be unearthed.
I want to remember to ask, more often.
Today, my mom drove down to my house to watch my children while I ran some errands and took some much-needed time off my job (but you other mommies know all about that). In the morning I took Nice, my youngest daughter, to a great bulk-foods store that's out of our usual path, so that I haven't gone but once since Lil' Snip's birth a year ago. We had a lovely time, the highlight for Nice being the dried pineapple ring she got to eat on the way home, I think.
In the afternoon, I free-styled.
First I went to the discount grocery in search of dark chocolate (success! Newman's Own organic espresso dark chocolate!!) and then hit the library to pick up the books they regularly import from other libraries for insatiable, grateful me.
[plug: I LOVE the library!! all the books a person could want, free for the borrowing, nice people with whom to chat and swap book recommendations, and air conditioned comfort for temporarily escaping the responsibilities of home life.]
Then I was off in search of a restful place to read and daydream (people-watching optional).
The park was loaded with large children on the loose for the summer and rather lacked the serenity I sought. I drove on.
I remembered a smaller park a friend had showed me, hidden in the center of a residential area, and began threading my way up and down streets and alleys till I found it. There were two other parties there - a mom with two young daughters in matching dresses, and an anonymous driver napping in an SUV.
I parked and found a bench in partial shade. When my legs fell asleep, I moved to the grassy hillside, and read till it was almost time to go home. On my way out, I noticed an older lady weeding one of the flowerbeds and stopped to express my appreciation of the park's well-kept appearance.
As we chatted, she wondered if she had heard me laugh over my book, and what I was reading. We traded favorite authors-of-the-moment (Alexander McCall Smith and Richard Paul Evans), and talked about the best spots to plant hydrangea (partial shade, wettish soil) and why our rosebushes' blooms looked "crippled" this year (too much rain?).
She recommended the parks' summer concerts to me and took me to her house across the way to give me her program. I admired the green glass bottles on the windowsill (I collect blue). We chatted our way back to the park and she said she'd look for me at the next concert.
It is so easy to find new friends. It takes so little effort - a smile and a compliment - and yields such satisfying results. Behind every unknown face is a story waiting to be told, similarities waiting to be unearthed.
I want to remember to ask, more often.
green things
It all started innocently enough with a banana plant. A good houseplant, we thought, and put it on a sunny windowsill with some optimistic seedlings (a guava on the left, I believe, and a papaya on the right). They prospered, and soon had outgrown a mere windowsill.
So we planted them outside, above our garden, with castor beans and sweet potato vines and cannas for company. They seemed to like it.
They grew so big that we never could pot them up again (although we did manage to overwinter a few, "dormant"). Fortunately there are always enough "pups" -- banana babies -- to keep us in winter greenery.
Here is that same papaya, at the end of summer 2005 (no, it did not survive our zone 6 winter):
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