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Green whispers
Mar. 11th, 2006 04:02 pmSpring, that tarty trollop, sashayed by this morning, waggling her hips and winking over her shoulder. I'm ashamed to admit I was utterly roped in by her ploy. I glanced out the dining room window at a sunny morning, and noticed that the daffodils and the tulips were a full two inches high, dozens of green shoots thrust up through the ground in quite the phallic display. I surveyed the back garden and realized that the time for the first cleanup had arrived. A quick trip to the grocery store fetched the brown paper garden debris bags that we are asked to use here (garden waste is composted by the city). I had to ask a manager if they had any. They were in the back, he told me with a quizzical look, stored away until, you know, spring? I told him it was a lovely day and I wanted to get a head start on cleaning up. That seemed industrious enough to satisfy his Puritan work ethic, and he fetched me two bundles, five bags each. They are enormous bags, the size of a trash can.
In three and a half hours, I stuffed six of them full.
It's not that we didn't do a fall cleanup. Kristi actually left the garden looking very neat. But we have nine large Maiden Grass plants, their stalks waving a couple feel above my head, their circumferences approaching barrel-like. We have been told not to cut them until spring, because they come back stronger that way. Now, rumor has it that you can tie the stalks together and then cut them through at the base and make quick work of it, but whatever the tool is for doing this impressive sheering, I do not own it. Instead, I spent the time squatting, sheering, standing, bagging the stalks, then squatting again. Two hours and change, plus three trash bags, of this alone.
My butt hurts. I anticipate not being able to walk tomorrow.
Yes, it would have been wiser to pace myself, do half of it today, wait another day to do the rest. Alas, the vagaries of life dictate that I do not work that way. Who knows what crisis tomorrow will bring?
Once all the grass was cut, there was raking to be done. We have no large trees in the back, but the neighbors behind us have a huge oak that fills our yard with detritus. Between that and the stalks of the Maiden Grass that the wind had blown loose, the place was a mess. The rakings resulted in two and a half more bags.
I stood back to survey my work. The garden still looks like crap.
Oh, it's better. And two years ago I might even have pronounced it pretty good. But Kristi lived here a year and showed me how good it could really look. I swear, that girl must have been out there plucking up individual leaf shreds. I have no idea how she got it so clean.
I learned a lot from her year here. I learned that boldly hacking back plants generally led to them fighting for their lives and coming back stronger and healthier - a Rocky approach to gardening. I learned that timidity in deciding where things should grow was a weakness. But I also learned that the whole thing can look a hell of a lot better than I have time to make it look. And that part is a little depressing.
With half a bag left to fill, I took a first swipe at the herb garden. I hacked out the brittle, dead parts of the lemon grass, the mint and the thyme, and was gratified to see the first tender shoots of spring beneath them. I could have done a lot more, but even I know when I have reached the limit.
Besides which, the sky began spitting snow. Oh, only for a minute, but it was enough. I checked the forecast. Sure enough, snow is predicted for next week. Spring gave me a gardening woody, then ran away giggling once again.
She's such a tease.
In three and a half hours, I stuffed six of them full.
It's not that we didn't do a fall cleanup. Kristi actually left the garden looking very neat. But we have nine large Maiden Grass plants, their stalks waving a couple feel above my head, their circumferences approaching barrel-like. We have been told not to cut them until spring, because they come back stronger that way. Now, rumor has it that you can tie the stalks together and then cut them through at the base and make quick work of it, but whatever the tool is for doing this impressive sheering, I do not own it. Instead, I spent the time squatting, sheering, standing, bagging the stalks, then squatting again. Two hours and change, plus three trash bags, of this alone.
My butt hurts. I anticipate not being able to walk tomorrow.
Yes, it would have been wiser to pace myself, do half of it today, wait another day to do the rest. Alas, the vagaries of life dictate that I do not work that way. Who knows what crisis tomorrow will bring?
Once all the grass was cut, there was raking to be done. We have no large trees in the back, but the neighbors behind us have a huge oak that fills our yard with detritus. Between that and the stalks of the Maiden Grass that the wind had blown loose, the place was a mess. The rakings resulted in two and a half more bags.
I stood back to survey my work. The garden still looks like crap.
Oh, it's better. And two years ago I might even have pronounced it pretty good. But Kristi lived here a year and showed me how good it could really look. I swear, that girl must have been out there plucking up individual leaf shreds. I have no idea how she got it so clean.
I learned a lot from her year here. I learned that boldly hacking back plants generally led to them fighting for their lives and coming back stronger and healthier - a Rocky approach to gardening. I learned that timidity in deciding where things should grow was a weakness. But I also learned that the whole thing can look a hell of a lot better than I have time to make it look. And that part is a little depressing.
With half a bag left to fill, I took a first swipe at the herb garden. I hacked out the brittle, dead parts of the lemon grass, the mint and the thyme, and was gratified to see the first tender shoots of spring beneath them. I could have done a lot more, but even I know when I have reached the limit.
Besides which, the sky began spitting snow. Oh, only for a minute, but it was enough. I checked the forecast. Sure enough, snow is predicted for next week. Spring gave me a gardening woody, then ran away giggling once again.
She's such a tease.
