finally, the vernal equinox

As we await a house vote on the health bill this eve, I'm nursing a bit of a sunburn.  I enjoyed some time in the garden on these first two days of spring. Pruned the roses on the archway and sprayed them with a baking soda concoction, gave the wisteria a buzz, spread some corn gluten meal on the grass and cleared out the leaves that didn't make it to the compost pile last fall. 

Buds, buds everywhere.

 

chindoxia blooming.

wisteria trimmed and ready for the growing season (yeah, I know it doesn't look trimmed, but it is).

 

hydrangea coming to life

Forsythia buds signal its time to spread corn gluten meal on the grass in the rear garden. A natural source of nitrogen, it acts like a fertilizer and supposedly inhibits the germination of weed seeds. This is the third year I've used it, in tandem with hand pulling, and I'll be interested to see if I notice a difference during the growing season.

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.