Firstly, or “thirstly”, my previous month’s (July) observations : “Hot, whew, too hot to type anything, s-s-sticky. [Fanning, gulp, sip.] Whew, on fire, too hot to go out in garden. [Gulp, sip.] Sure as hell – am I in hell? – not digging a pond this year…”
This month’s observations: “May I please have some sense of order?” My garden has become the wild kingdom! FLOCKS of birds (large audible SWOOSH into the bushes they scare), HERDS of rabbits, bats IN THE HOUSE, and yesterday the rump of a mouse stuck in a tiny air hole of my bird food garbage can storage device – trying to dive in – when I went to restock the bird feeders, again. Poor little guy. Knight-of-shining-armor husband to the rescue in scary, orange gloves. We had to “pop” him out the other way. Way to scuttlebutt, spread the word those holes are too small even for a mouse. (Again, I remind myself this is what I have been planting for, wildlife.)
Did I mention jungles upon jungles of plants? The Joe Pye is growing through the Forsythia. The Black-eyed Susans are shushing the Bee Balm and Husker’s Red. The Marigolds are overshadowing the peppers. “Off with your heads!” All I could manage when it was so hot, so very hot. I even now need my machete to walk through what was once generously wide pathways in the Potager. The tomatillos have become invasive alien pods – body snatchers. The Cutleaf Coneflower is rudely groping me. The horse radish is well, the size of a horse! The strawberries are growing over the lawn – hey, that’s okay.
Native plant sale here! Black-eyed Susan Special!
And friends, who now know I am a plant addict, keep dropping off more! I have a truckload of houseplants – thank you so much Dennis. A large clump of False Sunflower – gold – thank you so much dearest Angie. And a few minutes ago, a native Turk’s Cap Lily! – thank you for remembering me Trina. Where to plant in orderly fashion? What pots do I have left?
My new pond is going to be a perfectly round, ordered circle surrounded by perfectly large, ordered, impenetrable stones. I need some order please. Paths are going in. Pruning will be harsh. Division is my vision.
“Oh, hi Chip. [As in munk.] Back to work on emptying that feeder, huh?” I’m worried where I’m going to find that stash of seeds … hopefully not in the shed, or especially not in the basement.
Hack, hack, hack. Did I just see seven dwarfs? Fantastic, if you’re a conifer and I can SEE you. Dig, dig, dig. Hey, I’m whistling while I work!