Amidst the myriad tall green and orange Daylilies, the asters continue to grow. Taller than they usually stand, they have spread out all around the garden.
It’s a nice touch, those delicate little white flowers in the breaks between the tall daylilies, some of which have reached at least my height and a few are taller.
Tomorrow, it will rain, but Sunday I can get back to the garden and see what is growing!
Yesterday, it was warm, bright, sunny and just a little bit humid. I was under the impression it was Thursday, but I woke up today and realized today is Saturday. The rain I thought was at least 24-hours away is already closing in.
It was sunny when I first woke up this morning. I saw no reason to get up at six in the morning, so I went back to bed and when I got up, the sun was gone. The sky was gray. The weather had moved on. But I looked out my kitchen window and I saw a bright daylily.
I was sure they would start to bloom soon. I thought they would bloom yesterday. Instead, they waited for today, so before I even got my coffee, I took myself outside to get some pictures. I think later it will rain and since it’s supposed to rain tomorrow, too … well … today was my picture day.
Movement. Amazing the changes that can take place overnight. I’ve lived through a warm spring day and woken to a blizzard. I’ve watched the sun blaze all morning, watched the movement of the clouds as they cover the sky and the sun disappears. Then heard and seen the first fat drops fall on the deck. A complete movement of the weather, sometimes in as little as half an hour from bright summer day to gloomy grey and rain.
I’m counting on it.
The garden is full of buds but not full of blossoms.
The only thing in bloom are a few wildflowers. They seem to have popped up from nowhere, at least they are blooming, which is more than I can say for any of the flowers.
If the rest of the week is not entirely rainy, we will have flowers and a lot of them at that. Meanwhile, here are the little wild asters. I have always been very fond of them.
Dainty, sweet little flowers.
The daylilies aren’t blooming yet, though I think they will be before the week is finished. Perhaps this is a good time to remember the gardens of 2018 which were a month late because of the cold spring. I think we’re doing the cold spring again with the addition of pouring rain, lightning, and wind.
Good thing the climate isn’t changing!
Solomon’s Seal is not merely a wildflower that has been tamed for gardens. It’s one of the few flowers that will bloom in full shade. It is architectural too. The arches of the plants rise multiple feet into the air with perfectly tidy little bells of flowers hanging beneath them.
My right shoulder hurts. A lot.
At least half of that is an old injury from my riding days … and the rest is probably hauling heavy pots — with and without food — in the kitchen. Trying to find a position in which I can sleep with that shoulder wrapped in a heating pad is interesting. Because it’s my right shoulder and these days, I have to sleep on my back because that’s what my back wants, I can’t find anyplace to put the electric cord that is not underneath my head.
Meanwhile, in theory, my son is coming over tomorrow to change the sink faucet — assuming his back isn’t out. I also asked him to come by (if it ever stops raining) with his big electric hedge clippers and cut down the rose bushes and rhododendrons.
There’s no way I can maintain them anymore. The flowers will get the entire garden. While the bushes will eventually grow back — probably sooner rather than later — at least I don’t have to stare at all those dead rhododendrons.
I will get a respite from our barbed wire roses and dying rhododendrons.
I find a garden full of dead bushes a bit depressing. I don’t even know WHY they died, although they sent up a bunch of new, young shoots too … so maybe this is just their way of saying goodbye to the old and hello to the new? Is that how these bushes usually work?
As for the roses, these cruel, barbed-wire bushes have been (ahem) a thorn in my arms, hands, arms, and clothing for about 17 years. I should never have planted them and they have totally taken over. They not only get tall, but they send out runners,
Merciless and cruel, I can see how they were used to protect property. No one would try to dash through those bushes. I don’t think they could unless they were carrying a flame thrower and frankly, I’m not sure the bushes would care. They are very durable. They should be properly removed by an actual gardener, but I’d have to pay someone to do it and I can’t.
At least cutting them down will give me a season’s respite from their claws. I’m sorry about the rhododendrons, though.
We didn’t plant it sensibly. Didn’t leave pathways … or rather, we did, but they got eaten by the daylilies and roses. I never imagined a time when I wouldn’t be able to just hike up there and deal with the plants. Getting old is not only not fun, but it’s also a surprise.
You can count the years all you want, but you don’t really expect them to add up to “old.” No one plans to be old, even when we are planning for retirement. We think we will stay exactly as we are with maybe a few gray hairs.
I feel bad about it. It seems like murder. I’ve always encouraged plants to grow and cutting them down feels like a betrayal. I am comforted by knowing there will still be a few roses in the back and the daylilies will go into furious growth when they don’t have to battle with the thorn bushes.
You never imagine, when you plant a garden, that one day you won’t be able to care for it. It never crosses your mind. I was planning for an energetic old age that differed in no special way from being younger.