A Bit of a Break

Me, showing off

Today was my birthday, but I had no time to celebrate in the usual way.  No cake, no ice cream, no kicking up of the heels.

For that matter, except for some dirt-shifting late in the afternoon, I didn't really get any work done, either.

On the house or garden, I mean.

This is because I had the annual recertification training for substitute teaching in the morning, work at the Big Blue Box Store in the late afternoon and evening, and errands in between.

But that doesn't mean I can't be festive here on the houseblog.  And frivolous, too.

"Frivolous" is exactly the way to describe one of my errands this afternoon.  For I have an Idea of what I want to do with the paving in my new front garden bed, though I don't have the cash to do it and won't have it for the foreseeable future.  Nevertheless, being in the neighborhood I stopped at a local stoneyard and checked out the flagstones.

This is Colonial wall stone.  It matches my bluestone windowsills and some other flagstone paving I have on the property.  Nevertheless, I don't like it as much as I do this:

It's called West Mountain stone, and it comes from over by Scranton.  I really love the colors.  Wouldn't it be great if I came across someone who had some stone similar to this on their property that they wanted to get rid of?  Barring that, for this while I can only dream.

There's that.  But I can also treat you to some pretty flower shots from my garden, of what's currently in bloom and blossoms from earlier this spring.

Flowering quince, backyard west border, April 21st

Columbines, backyard, east border, May 12th

Kerria japonica pleniflora, backyard, north fence; also from May 12th

Lilac; "Miss Kim," I think.  Side door, May 18th

"Brother Cadfael" rose, front border, June 2nd

"Don Juan" rose, west side of house, June 8th

"Clio" rose, back porch steps, June 11th

There are a lot more I didn't get decent pictures of this year.  But I hope you enjoy these.  I only regret not being able to depict how wonderful the lilacs and roses have smelled, too.  Maybe I can convey a little of it in a haiku I wrote about three weeks ago:

Through open window

Scent of lilac breathes rapture

Soft sultry May night

Worth the Effort

Considering that my stoopy tumor turned out to be a Stage 1C, Grade 1 ovarian cancer, and considering that it was 1c instead of 1A only because it ruptured during surgery, there certainly is a little voice in me that questions whether it would have made a difference had I been able to get it all out on March 25th as originally planned.

But accepting that the bad cold I got prevented that, I have to be glad for the four additional weeks I had to do things and get ready before I went in.

Like getting my hollies planted. I am so grateful that I made the effort to get those rocks out and get that job done.

Here's some pictures taken today:

See that? That's berries. Meaning that the clerk at Lowe's was right: It was okay for me to plant two female Blue Angel hollies on my property, provided there was some kind of male holly bush within a block. I don't know the paternity of these green offspring, but there they are!

The second bush that didn't come through the winter as well is nowhere close to catching up to its sister, but it sports new growth and berries, too.

In other garden news, all the roses have buds on them and in a week or two I should have blooms.

The white lilac I transplanted two autumns ago is very happy in its new position on the east side of the house and promises to present an abundant display of blossom pretty soon.

The year-and-a-half-old blackberry bush is running riot in the east back garden border. It looks like I should have berries (yum!)-- if the birds don't get to them first.

The kerrias are the best they've been so far, and the bearded irises and the clematis lift up their heads for joy.

It's really chilly here in southwestern Pennsylvania today, in the 40s and 50s, and they say it'll get below freezing tonight. I heard on a radio garden show this morning that my perennials should weather that just fine; it's annuals, only, one needs to cover. Makes me wonder if I should put sheets over my leaf lettuce and snow peas. But both of those like being planted before the last frost, so unless I'm feeling really energetic after evening service, I'll let them take their chances, too.

Here a Little, There a Little

This evening-- o the excitement!-- we have primer applied to the wood trim inside the hall closet. Usually I wouldn't tackle that till the wall surface painting is done. But with the faux finish, I thought I'd do primer first so that if any random drips ended up dried on the walls, the final glaze coat would provide some camouflage.

Whatever. At least, the woodwork looks better with the beige covered. And I got the drips wiped off the walls. And off the stripped wood floor, mostly.
Which wood floor is why I'm doing the closet painting now. All spots can be removed before the finish goes on.

I suppose if I were an expert painter I would have taped off the door casing and got a nice even edge to the primer around there. But that messy edge will be covered up with the stop moulding, and I have more important things to think about in life than that level of perfection.

I guess I could give the primer an hour or so to dry then slop on the top glaze coat. But I really need to do my taxes.

@@@@@@@@@

Meanwhile, in other news . . . Look what I discovered in my front border when I got home from work this afternoon:
Here"s the daffs emerging in this 34 degree "warm snap," maybe as a nod to St. David's Day this coming Monday. Hope they'll survive when the freezing weather hits again.

Jumping the Gun

I've appreciated the warmer weather we've had the past few days in western Pennsylvania.

But all the same, there's something deceptive and meretricious about it; something disruptive and out-of-time.

Something like how it's whispering to my tulips, daffodils, and Spanish bluebells that it's time to wake up.

See that, in the middle of the photo, just this side of the drift of leaves? That's a tulip poking through.

And these greenish-whitish fingertips are the bluebells jumping the gun.

These shots are from this past Sunday. Today it's even worse: The spikes were higher, greener, and more numerous.

It's not time to get up, you silly bulbs! Winter's got five or six weeks more to run! Go back to sleep before your noses get frozes!

I mention the dilemma to my neighbor, out walking his dog. He says, "Stomp on their heads!"

I don't resort to such violent tactics. I've tucked them up in fresh blankets of fallen leaves, in the hope that the colder temperatures forecast in the next couple of days will convince them that the long night of winter is not yet over, and they've sleeping yet to do.

Call of Nature

As a Great Blogger has said in another place, tending the garden, while rendering satisfaction to the gardener, does not make for entertaining blog posts.

And tending the garden is what I have been involved in, lo, these many days.

So I thought I'd post a few photies to show where it stands (and grows) as of today:
The vegetable garden is planted and growing. Unfortunately, so is the spurge and purslane in the cobblestone path.

The broccoli is beginning to form heads. This one is about an inch and a half across.

The sedum and whatever that purple stuff is I got from my friend Steve's* mom has established itself happily, and the hostas are trying to take over the world. (They may look like flower stalks, but they're actually secret devices for communicating with the Mother Plant.)

The impatiens and vincas are planted all around the maple tree, and the grass I seeded in about a month ago is actually growing. It'll look even more impressive (to me, at least!) when it gets thick enough to cover the straw mulch. No, I do not have dead yellow patches anymore!

And this evening I removed yet another three or so loads of landscape rock from the east border. There's still rock-- and landscape fabric-- under that mass of ajuga. Need to decide where to move it to. Too tired to think about it tonight.

On Tuesday, there just may be something happening here worth houseblogging about. Stay tuned.

Imagine

Imagine there’s no tree roots:
It’s easy if you try;
No rocks below us,
Above, a sunny sky.
Imagine all the compost
Mixed in yesterday!

Imagine no samaras:
It isn’t hard to do!
Nothing to pull or uproot,
No spurge or sorrel, too.
Imagine all the peppers,
’Matoes, beans, and peas, oo-hoo!

You may say I’m a dreamer,
And I ain’t got nothing done;
But someday you can join me,
And this garden might be fun!

Or something like that.

Call this an excuse for not posting for awhile, but when it comes to working on my house and garden, I find a strong imagination to be a dire handicap. I'm so good at imagining and visualizing what things are going to look like when I've got them finished, that when I finally get out there and accomplish the work, I have no sense of satisfaction. It's like, "Hey, wasn't it like that all along? What's the big deal?"

Or I obsess about it in my sleep, dreaming about mixing soil or digging out roots or finally finding places for and planting all the flowers I was given by my friend Hannah's* mother-in-law two weeks ago, and then I wake up and yeah, now I actually gotta do it, except it means two more trips to the garden center for mushroom compost and cow poop-- ye gods, I'm broke and I'm spending my money on dirt!!?-- and more rock and root removal.

And then I think, Dammit, just do it, but it rains solid for a week. And then it doesn't rain for a week and the soil turns to dust and I don't want to pay the borough's inflated sewer rates watering the garden, but I have to do it anyway, if I don't want all the new vegetable plants to die.

All right, though. I still have the beans, squash, and cantaloupe to plant in the vegetable garden. But I do have the tomatoes (Brandywine and grape) in, and the bell peppers (red and yellow), yellow and red onions, regular and pickling cucumbers, broccoli, and celery (that last is me getting adventurous). Oh, yes, and the volunteer lettuce.

In the front border, the peonies and balloon flowers I transplanted last November are up and prospering (surprise! thought I'd drowned them!). They've been joined by delphiniums and sweet Williams from the cooperative extension's master gardeners' plant sale, Mona Lavendar plectanthrus from the garden center, and dead nettle and some other low-growing whatever-it-is from my friend's mother-in-law. The poppies are at it, but the front border crape myrtle isn't doing anything. Rot.

I've received my order of three ground-cover roses in the post three (or four?) days ago that'll go in with them, if I haven't killed them stone dead. I was screamingly busy this weekend and I forgot they were coming in little pots, not bareroot. So I just left them in the unopened box, on the dining room table. Where my big cat lay on it, keeping them nice and warm . . .

I've liberated the pots and put them on the back porch, watered, hopefully to recover for planting tomorrow.

Some of the donated gooseneck loosestrife went in the backyard border next to the house this evening. I figure I want something vigorous and agressive there, and if it invades the grass-- well, what grass? That's where I'm always trampling it down on the way to the rain barrel.

Which is finally full again, because it rained all afternoon and evening.

Too bad! Planted the gooseneck in it, and then half the tall phlox I was given. That went next to the giant alliums in the far end of the west border.

I still have sedums, more phlox, Siberian iris, and some kind of reddish basil to find locations for. And more gooseneck loosestrife, if anyone wants any! (Heh-heh!)

But in my imagination this is all perfectly done! At least two weeks ago!

Which does my sense of accomplishment no good at all.

Crape Myrtle Watch 080528

It's been a little warmer this past week . . . So how are the crape myrtles doing?

The one I'm calling "New Orleans" No. 1 is spreading nicely:

New Orleans No. 1

New Orleans No. 2

"New Orleans" No. 2 is worrying me a little. Not because it's not healthy and growing, but because it doesn't look like its twin. Kind of like Arnie Swarzenegger and Danny DeVito, ya know?

In fact, the plant that was labelled "Pixie White" looks more like a mini than "New Orleans" No. 2 does. Separated at birth?

Pixie White.  Maybe.

"Bayou Marie" should be the biggest of them all in this bed, but so far . . .

Bayou Marie

And, as before, "Velma's Royal Delight" isn't being too delightful. If it doesn't take hold, do I lobby for a replacement? Or give up and plant something else?

Velma's Royal Delight

Poppy!

I forgot to take any overall views today; at least, not of the crape myrtle bed out by the sidewalk. So to make it up to you, may I present my first full-blown poppy of the year?

Is It Really Spring?

Haven't posted much lately, since between doing my taxes and running my dog to the weekend emergency vet's and and trying to get some sewing done, I haven't done a lot-- well, anything-- on the house lately.

But I have been raking out and mulching up the rafts and tons of leaves that spent the winter in my borders.

The weapon of choice this season is the electric lawn mower. The leaf-vac takes too blinking long. As for the mulcher/chipper with the Briggs & Stratton engine I borrowed from some friends last week, I couldn't get it started.

And although I'd swear that everyone else in the neighborhood must've dumped their leaves in my piles when I wasn't looking, I am making progress. At a blinding rate that should see me done sometime around leaf fall next autumn.

And this evening, under all those gray and brown leaves, look what I uncovered . . .

No, that isn't some dead man's fingers reaching out of a shallow grave.

It's the blanched version of some kind of hosta. Don't ask me what kind; my previous owners put it in, along with about a hundred of its kin.

Well, it seems like a hundred. And they do self-sow! I have mercy and leave them there because I haven't thought what else I might like instead.

This is a flowering quince.

At least, I saw a picture once that looked like it, and that's what it said it was. I found this shrub as a few poor, stunted, ground-hugging twigs with thorns and not a lot of leaves. I pruned it and propped it up on bricks and this is the reward I have for my charity.

Nice reward, actually. I just have to keep it tied back, or the thorns will lacerate anyone who tries to use the garden path.

This is one of the miniature rhododendrons I transplanted last fall, to get them out of the full sun where the POs' landscaper put them.

So far so good. Haven't killed them yet, as I did their cousin the azalea. They may actually survive.

This is a climbing rose I planted, Sympathie by name.

It'll have masses of bright red remontrant blooms when it gets really established. Right now I'm just pleased to see it's healthy and sprouting.

And these are the daffs I planted last fall.

They look kind of silly up against the fence, don't they? But now that I know how tall they get and what color they are, I can decide where I'd like to move them for next year. Think of it as an experimental bed.

So do you think it really is spring? Is winter really gone for good? I mean, the temperature got down to 26 degrees two nights ago; I had to do the ghost in the garden thing with the climbing rose!

I'll go with hope and say spring has truly come.

But if we get another four inches of snow before May, I won't be shocked or surprised.

I also won't shovel it. This time of year, that's the sun's job.

How I Spent My Birthday

It's wonderful what you can justify when it's your birthday.

And when you've got family coming and you don't want them to know what a lazy, disorganized slob you've been . . .

So I went shopping. First, at a nursery over in the next county that I only get to when I have other business over that way. A lunch meeting was my excuse today.

It's not the cheapest source of plants, but they've got great variety. It's owned by a man I know in my presbytery, and he's known to give pastors discounts. He wasn't in today, however, so it was full price for me.

Oh, well. I came home with three good-sized tomato plants, one cherry, one Roma, and one regular round; two flats of torenias in various colors for underneath my maple tree, two alstroemerias for my front steps, and a wrought iron hanger to put up a set of windchimes my mother sent me last Christmas.

They are none of them planted yet. Soon as these were home and stowed, it was off to the Home Depot to return the stock painted wood medicine cabinet I bought there last March.

Yes, last night I finally got around to starting on the tile surround for the bathroom medicine cabinet. Made good progress-- till I tried the new cabinet and discovered it was about 3/8" too wide.

Took it back today, then promptly wiped out the credit buying a 2.5 hp Ridgid shop vac.

Well, hey, I need one, don't I? I can't go on ruining my regular vacuum cleaners, can I? Besides, it was on sale.

And it's my birthday.

(Never you mind which one.)

Something Uplifting

I love perennials. When it's mid-Spring and I've gotten behind (as usual) with my indoor seed starting, or it seems it's rained every weekend for two months, or my work doesn't let me get outside till 9:00 PM, the perennials are still on the job, pushing through the ground, budding out, and assuring me I'm going to have a garden this year, in spite of myself.

So on that note, allow me to intruduce a couple of my stalwarts.

These are my kerrias (Japanese rose, kerria japanica). I've had them in the ground for two years now, and this year's is their best show so far.

Here's the clematis "President". Got this fellow on late-season sale at Lowe's a year or so ago for $1.50 maybe. And despite the backwards Winter and early Spring we had in southwestern Pennsylvania, already it's doing very well.

And lest you think I've done no proper gardening this season at all, here are the lettuces and the spinach (two kinds). Sowed the seeds sometime the last week in March. This is all the further along they are, but see above about bass-ackward weather.

(Yes, they need thinned. I'm waiting till the thinnings are big enough to make a salad.)

And for something really uplifting, we have-- dirt. That is, compost. Despite all expectations, the plastic Rubbermaid bin really did do a decent job of it. That's after over two years and little or no turning, but it's compost!