history-July 2008

The middle of summer is truly the time of plenty. This month, the previously sparse front bed began to really come alive. Guara, junior dance phlox, catmint, hot pink dianthus, lemon coral sedum, yellow roses, blue lobelia and he few magic fountain delphinium that I added as an afterthought all began to bloom.





In the rear, the shasta daisies were doing their best against an army of slugs as the first false sunflowers began to open.



My seven tomato plants had very quickly become massive and by the end of the month I could clearly see that I'd planted them way to close to eachother and to other plants. But the first fruits began to form regardless of my mistakes.




Away on Nantucket for some of the month, I snapped a few photos of the rambling roses that grow everywhere there. These below grow on the cottages in Siasconset near one of my favorite hidden public walks. The little cuttings I took from this same kind of rose in May were rooted in pots back home and I dreamed of the day that they would grow to look like these massive forms.

history-June 2008

By early June I finally got some of the perennials into the new front garden: a few Penny Mac hydrangea, three Garden Sun climing roses, french lavender, sedum and a smattering of other things.

The grass was coming up on the driveway through the burlap John and I laid last month so I removed it and delighted in the first green to grace that area for a long long time.
In the back, the hydrangea along the fence were blooming--amazingly I had only killed 4 out of the 13 the fall before with the homemade baking soda concoction. So I replaced those with new Endless Summers and enjoyed the blue blooms that would probably only last for this season. I tried a sulfur mixture to acidify the soil but the year-old transplants came up pink this year anyway. John's dad suggested I bury copper wire or rusty nails to blue them, which I might try sometime.
I also planted several flats of pink impatiens by the back steps, which did well last season there in mostly shade.


In the one corner of the back that gets a smattering of sun I laid out plans for an herb garden backed with clematis, and I planted seven tomatoes, all started from seed by my neighbors and given to me last month, some bell peppers, a mystery pepper and a cucumber plant in the vegetable patch.


At the end of the month, the Shasta daisies were starting to bloom. On a nice morning I was clearing weeds from around some Kansas-grown hostas that I had transplanted from my Mom's yard when I was startled by a baby deer (who seemed just as startled by me). Deer are common garden guests in this part of the Hudson Highlands but I live in the middle of town on a small fenced lot near a busy road so I don't ever see them. It was unclear how long this little guy had been there or where he came from. He apparently had been separated from his mother and was clearly scared. As he tried several times unsuccessfully to jump the 4 foot fence in the rear and then ran in circles around the patio, I tried, just as unsuccessfully, to get a hold of animal rescue. But by the time I returned outside, he had disappeared. No dead body in the street, no clues about his point of exit. He was just gone.

history- May 2008

While in the back, the peonies were in full bloom and the hydrangeas along the fence miraculously were coming back to life and forming buds, in May I began to build the front garden, the vegetable and herb patch and to prepare the driveway for an attempt at growing grass there. I also laid a brick pathway through the front garden with leftover bricks from the driveway job and some antique ones we found under some brush in the back.




We live on a main street, and it was interesting how much commentary from passers-by was sparked by this work. I don't particularly like working in the garden in full view of the world, but it is amazing how quickly one gets lost in the task at hand and forgets about location and surroundings. One guy startled me by shouting from his passing car: "good luck getting anything to grow in this dirt." After I brought in a load of compost and topsoil to mix into the gravel and clay, a kind stranger driving by offered to give me some of his peonies and white siberian iris clumps that he had been dividing that week. Tickled at the kindness, I accepted and would tuck them next month into my new bed along with a smattering of other perennials acquired from local nurseries. We visited John's dad and stepmother this month and she gave me a smattering of shade-friendly perennials from her garden--some yellow foxglove, sedum, missouri primrose and sweet woodruff--which I tucked into the back. I also took 10 tiny cuttings from some wild rose bushes near my mother-in-law's house over Mother's Day and tried to get them to root. These are pink rambling-type roses that I really love (see photo of parent roses growing on a fence in Nantucket). So I dipped them in rooting hormone, stuck them in pots covered with bags, stretched burlap over the newly seeded driveway, and waited.

history-July 2007

We moved in June a short way up the Hudson River to a walkable town on a hill. All things said and planned and reasoned, it was quite sad to see Brooklyn go. The promise of some true soil that didn't come in plastic bags and reside in pots on the fire escape offered some solace. Many weeks and three pairs of gloves later my hands are cut up and the weeds are still winning. But I uncovered many lost souls: sedum, snow-in-the-summer, and several opportunistic strands of sweet-autumn clematis. I planned to mostly let this garden breathe a bit, and to see what comes up this season. Started a compost pile, which brought with it an irrational amount of satisfaction. John had vetoed my vermicomposting hopes while we were in our apartment (with reasoned aversion to a tiny kitchen full of worms), so this was a dream finally realized I suppose. My folks rescued an old rusty push-mower from the garbage on a drive down to visit and it found a spot next to a boulder in one of the beds. There are a lot of rocks here. A lot. I tucked in some white impatiens in the interim. Debating what to do with several bleeding hearts. Pouring boiling water on the brick patio in increments to try to kill the crazy dandelions. The earth worms don't like that. I feel for them. They are my friends.