More of this needs to happen next year.
Pieter Brueghel the Younger (1564/65–1637/38)
Spring (between 1622–35)
Oil on wood, 16 15⁄16 × 23 1⁄4 in. (43 × 59 cm)
Muzeul National de Arta, Bucharest, Romania
More of this needs to happen next year.
Pieter Brueghel the Younger (1564/65–1637/38)
Spring (between 1622–35)
Oil on wood, 16 15⁄16 × 23 1⁄4 in. (43 × 59 cm)
Muzeul National de Arta, Bucharest, Romania
I was such a better gardener back in 2009. Sigh.
The dahlias were found growing behind a much bigger plant which had to be pointed out to me.
{2016}
{2009}
On Gardening with Cisco this week offered up a remarkable tip, one I actually participated in today.
How to remember when to plant your bulbs? Do it at the same time you put your Christmas lights up.
Today Ben put up the Christmas lights and I finally put those incredible iris rhizomes that Yvette gave me into the ground. It has been a few weeks (since crush actually) and I am terrified that I might have killed them. Sigh. Actually I put them into the raised bed to winter over and hope to transplant them in the spring to a more permanent spot in the front yard. However, since the front yard is such an overwhelming task, I think I will now refuse to profess to those many projects that might never get done.
I have realized I am only one type of gardener, and that is a hapless gardener. Today in the shed, I looked down at the table and saw the bowl of paper whites I had been ignoring since last year had started to sprout. I put them in a couple of tiny pots….there is no such thing as planning ahead in my life.
Now remember how you wished you had planted more snowdrops all over the yard.
I also need to put some cute flowers in the box outside on the front side of the house. The cyclamen did not survive my neglect.
Good bye for now to you too garden site. I’m sure I will be back once the unbearable nature of the winter goes on for too long. At least we got some of the dahlias up and moved the geraniums to a safe place for the cold weather.
I am dragging my heels on the bulbs. What at first seemed a joyous activity soon turned treacherous, every inch of our yard is hard, hard clay. It is hateful. And I never moved the huge dirt pile that was to be the iris bed. So we are ending here with a shrug. Maybe they will go in if we get a rain free weekend before the holidays. Putting them in containers is sounding more and more rewarding all the time.
Good bye garden.
PS And for the record, it was Ben who took down all the tomato plants and tomatillas (or however you spell them) and everything else that was rotting from neglect. Sigh. I have been hugely distracted.
I know it isn’t fall for a few more days, but as far as I’m concerned, it’s here.
The rainy weather of last weekend kind of sealed the deal. And I am fine with this.
I am ready for fat socks and five cups of coffee to be nursed while reading books under comforters or what ever we do here in the bad seasons. I’m ready to let the ground do its thing and regenerate its batteries.
With the exception of bulb planting and Yvette’s kind visit this coming weekend, I can’t image we will be visiting here to much more until spring. Or maybe I will lose my mind in January, like I did last year. Who knows.
Out of the blue, the witchhazel tree has started turning, and it is beautiful.