a place of your own
I sat out in the garden yesterday, steeling precious moments between rain falls, a rare treat at this time of year. I’m so relieved that I got the extra week at the beginning of December, which allowed me to finish up the yard cleaning. It would be really depressing to watch the habitual pile of slimy, rotting debris that I can’t touch for another three months.
As it is right now, the garden isn’t in disarray, it’s just sleeping. The veggie patch is clean, the planters are clean, the trellises are clean, the flower beds are…well, not so much, but that is a concern for spring.
It is important to watch the garden during the dormant season to make a clear assessment of how much room is still available for planting. For instance, even now, when the perennials are dormant and many of them have died down to the ground, if I throw a needle in the sunny border it will not hit the ground. I’m guessing that means I’ve reached full capacity.
Of course the wilderness tries to take over it every year, and I can tell you from previous experience, the wilderness is relentless and rapacious. It’s an endless struggle.
I guess after so many years and so many tries I’ll have to admit that hybrid tea roses don’t much appreciate my garden. The once blooming shrubs are thriving, but all the noble varieties are dead. I could blame the weather, the soil or the hand of destiny, but the end result is that I’m slowly growing my stock of Dr. Huey.
Maybe if weather gives us a break, the French lilacs and the Great Southern magnolia will bloom this year, it’s been a while.