Gardens have their own plans

There are sunchokes coming up in my monarda patch.

The monarda patch itself is obligingly moving eastward to give the sunchokes the space they seem to think they're owed.

The motherwort plants - 2 of them are gigantic already - have produced litters of babies amongst the sedums.

Yellow dock? Don't talk to me about yellow dock. It's in the lawn. It's also in the monarda patch. It's .. well, it's everywhere you'd expect to see a dandelion, and if you think it's tough to get a dandelion out of the ground you oughta try yellow dock. The leaves slide off if you try to just yank it, exuding this slippery mucilaginous stuff (good medicine, no doubt) that makes a second attempt laughable. Only a big digging fork going down a foot or more (at least) and getting to the root is going to even half way discourage those buggers.

But on the other hand ..



The wild ferns in the back corner of the yard are spectacular this (rainy, cool) year and the logs I've used to edge some of my beds are sprouting gorgeously coloured turkey tail type mushrooms (I haven't checked to see if they're the real deal yet).

the self heal
Do click to embiggen!

The violets, creeping charlie and self heal make swaths of grandeur (in blues and purple) in the grass. Paul (my husband, co-conspirator and all around good guy) doesn't so much mow the lawn as make "paths through the meadow"; otherwise the bumblebees would be deprived of those flowers and lord knows we're not the kind of people to deprive bumblebees.

Two (three?) years ago I had a profound longing for a honeysuckle in the garden. I bought one; a

wild honeysuckle

fancy Asian thing that didn't survive its first winter, breaking my heart. But that spring, even as I mourned, I discovered a wild, native honeysuckle lurking between the blackcurrant bush and the rhubarb patch on the edge of the yard that borders with our neighbour, Mike. That was a thrill, and even more so now as it has grown to tower over Mike's boring cedar hedge. I like Mike, he's a good neighbour, but his yard is utilitarian .. no, make that anally tidy. Ugh. I get a cheeky kick out of knowing that the way the honeysuckle is waving above his hedge is probably driving him nuts. Ha!

I haven't been writing much because I'm too busy living.

As the garden takes shape the house falls apart - my goodness floors get dirty when you're in and out in your bare feet dozens of times a day. I manage to haul myself inside to cook, most days, (although we've had one or two takeout pizzas lately), and delightfully every dinner I make is chock full of greens. Last year's collards survived the winter - tough critters, those collards. I barely survived that brutal winter so I'm impressed. We've been 'eating on' those and nettles and green onions and small leaves of comfrey for weeks. Pretty soon the Good King Henry plants I put in will be ready to sample, that's exciting. A potherb that goes back to ancient times? I'll have some of that, yes please!

lush, lush ferns

For a while there we were eating the ferns as well - before they unfurled, of course, not like they are in this picture. It took me years to get around to checking into them and discover that what we have here is actual 'fiddleheads'. I just liked them for their beauty! (If there is a deep groove in the stem, that's the eating kind). They're delicious, but take it from me that when you read you're supposed to cook them for 15 minutes, it's true. I didn't, and we ended up slightly queasy. Not outright ill, just a little woozy. You, like me, might think they'd taste better a little underdone, and it's true, they do. But your tummy would prefer you cook them well. Just thought you should know that. And that a little dandelion tincture fixes the queasiness, in case it happens to you.

Pansies on the left (well, obviously) with
new little betony.
And the fallen petals of pear blossoms.

The dozen betony plants I ordered from Richter's nursery arrived in good shape, and have settled in nicely in various parts of the yard. They're small but strong. Although I had grand plans to dry them for winter teas I'm not sure this will be the year it happens. For one thing, they may not have grown on enough for me to harvest that much from this year, I might need to give them time to establish themselves properly. The other thing is I haven't yet got my hands on the dehumidifier I was thinking on using (see the betony link for that story). The prices on those things, bought new, are just a bit ridiculous .. I spent all my mad money on shrubs (ahem) .. so I'm hoping to find something at Value Village where you can find just about any small appliance for under $10. It just seems a bit silly to spend the kind of money they're asking on Amazon for something I'm not even sure will do what I need it to do. Might be my Scots blood talking there, ha! Paul and I set up the portable closet and I'm not too impressed with it, either. I should have got one twice the size. In other words, we're going back to the drawing board on that one ..

We've had this place for 13 years now (wow, tempis fugit!) and it's reached a comfortable mix of volunteers and plantings. It will never be 'done' of course. Because I'm a rather hands-off gardener, it doesn't ever really turn out the way I see it in my mind's eye. There's a patch of irises that seems to be fading away, but that's because the phloxes and sweet cicely have expanded from either side, and I'm okay with that, there are other irises elsewhere. The lilies of the valley have marched beyond their appointed bed towards the hedge and will reach Mike's yard any day now (lol). I've just done battle with my rhubarb, trying to haul out flowering stalks to give the newer plants a fighting chance .. god that's a battle, and as the rhubarb is, as mentioned, right next to Mike's cedar hedge, it's prime mosquito territory .. I lost a fair bit of blood there. (I really hate cedar hedges for that!)

It never ends, this gardening business, and it's not for the faint of heart. Or anyone who wants perfect fingernails. Or is afraid of snakes, bees, wasps or ticks. (If I think about it, I'm a little afraid of ticks. So I just try not to think about it.)

But I just spotted the first of the rosebuds through the window, so if you'll excuse me I'll just go back out there now, fall to my knees and marvel.