I've just made a stooped over bee-line for the aspirin and heating pad. Maybe the gardening magazines portray the naturalizing of daffodils at the wood's edge as bucolic, beautiful........and easy. But today's endeavor was far from a "Fine Gardening" moment as I set out to plant my 50 bulbs at that fictional bucolic edge. Ten holes measuring 10"x 10"x 6", five bulbs to a hole, that was my plan. I hadn't counted on each little hole consuming 25 minutes of my precious, dwindling, October daylight. While I would like to write that I was setting bulbs in rich, loose loam along a rambling old stone wall, that was not the case. Where the lawn meets the woods has been the pit of hell-fire I've chosen to ignore for three years. Today I ripped out numerous young saplings, yards of grapevine and briars, severed countless mazes of inch-thick roots below the ground with my pruners. I've removed shale, rocks, dense clumps of long grass and scraps of builder's landscaping plastic. My labor had a sweet spot, though, when my eye caught a vine of bittersweet deep in the woods. It was one of those illuminating moments. Intellectually, I know I am not supposed to delight in this discovery because bittersweet is an invasive menace. But I love when the orange berries swell and split their cream colored cloaks, adding jewelry to the bland brown wardrobe of the November woods. Where it is, it will cause a problem to no-one. The aspirin is taking hold now and in retrospect I can stand by one of my gardening principles. As long as you love what you're doing, it's never work. Hopefully, each time I round the last bend homeward next April the daffodils will smile at me from the woods. And if my intent is realized, I will believe that God put them there, not I!
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
"Naturalizing" Bulbs
I've just made a stooped over bee-line for the aspirin and heating pad. Maybe the gardening magazines portray the naturalizing of daffodils at the wood's edge as bucolic, beautiful........and easy. But today's endeavor was far from a "Fine Gardening" moment as I set out to plant my 50 bulbs at that fictional bucolic edge. Ten holes measuring 10"x 10"x 6", five bulbs to a hole, that was my plan. I hadn't counted on each little hole consuming 25 minutes of my precious, dwindling, October daylight. While I would like to write that I was setting bulbs in rich, loose loam along a rambling old stone wall, that was not the case. Where the lawn meets the woods has been the pit of hell-fire I've chosen to ignore for three years. Today I ripped out numerous young saplings, yards of grapevine and briars, severed countless mazes of inch-thick roots below the ground with my pruners. I've removed shale, rocks, dense clumps of long grass and scraps of builder's landscaping plastic. My labor had a sweet spot, though, when my eye caught a vine of bittersweet deep in the woods. It was one of those illuminating moments. Intellectually, I know I am not supposed to delight in this discovery because bittersweet is an invasive menace. But I love when the orange berries swell and split their cream colored cloaks, adding jewelry to the bland brown wardrobe of the November woods. Where it is, it will cause a problem to no-one. The aspirin is taking hold now and in retrospect I can stand by one of my gardening principles. As long as you love what you're doing, it's never work. Hopefully, each time I round the last bend homeward next April the daffodils will smile at me from the woods. And if my intent is realized, I will believe that God put them there, not I!
Sunday, October 9, 2011
The Dirtiest Book I Own
Whenever I head to the garden for a serious work day this book hitches a ride in the wheelbarrow along with its companions - the shovel, bucket, trowel, clippers and bug spray. It's easier than tracking my garden dirt into the house countless times to double check a when or a how-to. THIS is the book that bears the marks and scars of the great outdoors. As I flip through the pages I can find evidence of muddy fingerprints, hose mis-firings, debris from the garden gloves, dribbles of sun tea, flower petals, a squashed mosquito, a random seed or two, and (ew) maybe even a drop of blood from a rose thorn. More than any other gardening book, this one is subject to abuse as it lays open on the reference section of my stone wall. I can't attack the chores without Tracy DiSabato-Aust's help. She has divided her book into three sections. Section I is devoted to basic perennial planting and maintenance. Section II is all about Pruning. These sections are more for feet-up study with my peanut butter sandwich and glass of milk. Section III is my favorite, the most useful (and has the dirtiest passages!) It is an A-Z encyclopedia of perennials. For every plant name there is a banquet of information: zone, description, size, exposure, flowering time, pruning and maintence tips for every season. And there's dessert on the banquet table, "Other maintenance tips." It's a wealth of information to encourage success for every plant. So the secret's out. I own a book that is too dirty for my coffee table.
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