As soon as Spring rolls in, I head outside. Never mind that I’m allergic to all of creation, that’s what the pharmacy in my cabinet is for.
I confess, I have a bit of a plant addiction. Is there a plant buyers anonymous?
When I moved into my house, it had two garden beds. Nothing was in the rocky pathetic shade spot, and the only thing in the sun bed were some scraggly daffodils, a huge boxwood bush and an azalia which had been planted far too close to the boxwood. Every spring, it looks like one tiny corner of the boxwood blooms orange-pink. I didn’t prune the boxwood last fall. I think I hear the azalia crying, “Help me! Help me!”
That first year I planted all annuals, dianthus and vincas, petunias, etc. The dianthus, as luck would have it, were hardy and lived for three more years until fire ants decided their roots made for an awesome home. Since that first spring I’ve slowly added in perennials and bulbs. Now, that bed is full. Much of it dies back in winter, but not all, and aside from the business of feeding, mulching, and pruning, it returns every year. The same applies for the shade bed, once I found some native shade lilies and hostas that grow well in that spot.
A few years later I turned the entire length of the side yard into a shade bed, as nothing grew. The dirt was horrid. It’s taken several years to amend and for the plants to fill in nicely. I’m now hacking at ivy. “Back! Back I say!”
I’ve added a bed around the mailbox, one along the front walk, one in front of the rocky bed, and this year I added a large semi-shade bed.
Then there’s the vegetable garden I started four years ago:
That’s only the parts I’m done weeding and planting.
I’ve amended the soil a bunch, there’s chicken wire to keep the chickens from eating the garden as they did last year, and I’m mulching heavily.
Maybe this year I might get food, eh?
When it hits 100 degrees outside, I’ll return to a more active writing schedule, but for now, I plan to play in the dirt.