My Garden Thru Her Eyes

Diedre the fabulous photographer took some photos of my garden a while ago, and I'm looking at them to reassure myself that:

1. Spring will come

2. My garden will be beautiful again

3. Things really are growing - Sometimes it seems nothing is happening, then I look at a photo and realize I can't see that view anymore, it's filled in. Or overgrown, depending on your point of view. But I can't see the growth day to day, and it is a joy to see my garden thru Deidre's eyes.

After a long summer in the Big Black Boot that passes for a cast these days, the garden has run riot. I planned to hack some of the thugs back today - the salvia, a rose that spreads like a bad rash. Then a wasp got in my hair, panicked, stung me, and I've spent the day sleeping off the Benadryl and icing my head. But it was beautiful not so long ago...

And tomorrow I'll try again. Weed by weed, plant by plant. 

I must confess I love to garden - I find it soothing, the hours fly by. I like being sweaty and working hard, I like seeing a bed transform from and overgrown jungle into a place where plants have room to show off and are not mugging their neighbors. And I love to sit and catch my breath and listen to the Acorn Woodpeckers argue and the mockingbird singing his heart out and the neighbor's dog barking his head off (okay, that one not so much). I love to feel the breeze come up in the evening, to walk around as the sun is setting and see what I've done, what's blooming, who needs a haircut. This last part is best done when the light is fading or I'll never make it inside.

Last week I dug out some iris that were in shade (who knew the Tulip tree would grow so fast?) and planted icelandic poppies in the brightest oranges and pinks I could find. Now I'm thinking cornflower blue pansies to go with them, the ones with just a dot of yellow in the middle and no faces. I hate faces on pansies. And of course there is always clover to weed out and that nasty little annual grass that can set a zillion seeds without peeking over the alyssum. And the tomatoes are over and the dahlias need dividing. 

A garden is a thing of beauty and a job forever.