Sad Garden
My garden looks kind of sad. I think the flora detects my lack of enthusiasm. It's mocking me. It's supposed to be a perrenial garden, mostly. I planted things in there in no particular order, because I have no patience for mapping things out, figuring out what blooms when, which plants get how tall, what colors should bloom in what places. I just plant, plant, plant. Then I fill in the blank spots with impatiens and new guineas. I've done that already, and I put in some zinnias too.
I don't know why I keep trying with the zinnias. I see them in other people's yards, blooming happily all summer long. I remember growing some when I was a girl scout. I must have been trying to earn some kind of badge. They got huge and I was very impressed with my gardening prowess. But I've never been able to grow them since. I'm beginning to suspect my mother, who has ten green fingers instead of just a thumb, secretly nurtured them. She can't help it. It's in her nature to nurture. But I have no luck with them. Whether I plant them from seed, starting off in tiny plastic cups of potting soil, carefully tending the little shoots until they seem big and strong enough to withstand the vagaries of the garden's terra firma, or whether I cheat a little and buy the plants already bursting with buds, I get the same result. They wilt (oops, forgot to add water), they get eaten (chipmunks? slugs?), they get stepped on (dog). After a week or two there's nothing left but a brown withered stump where I wanted giant globular petals.
The garden is planted in a raised bed, supported by a nice retaining wall of wooden beams. At one end, it's flourishing. I've got daylillies and stella d'oro mixed in with huge fuscia peonies. At the border there's lush emerald green sweet william, and right next to that is a giant seedum (autumn joy I believe). The black-eyed Susans are ready to take over when the peonies fade. But at the other end there's nothing tall. There are a couple of stella d'oro, and I was pleasantly surprised to see a healthy coreopsis that I planted last year and forgot about. There's a strange looking variegated seedum which has clearly been trampled on by the aforementioned dog, and floppy remnants of tulips that bloomed gloriously in April before turning into so much detritus, yellow and brown and faded.
Even the reflecting ball is looking rather dull. It's supposed to be a vibrant royal blue, reflecting the sun and whatever colors the garden provides. It seems to have faded, like my dining room carpet, from the sun's rays.
I guess all my garden really needs is a little drama. I could move some bigger plants around so we have some symmetry. I should prop up the variegated seedum so it doesn't look so lazy, like a fat lady at the grocery store who leans heavily on the handle of her grocery cart because she can't manage to stand up straight. Discipline, that's what's called for. I'm trying to exercise it here with my writing. I should try it outside too.
I don't know why I keep trying with the zinnias. I see them in other people's yards, blooming happily all summer long. I remember growing some when I was a girl scout. I must have been trying to earn some kind of badge. They got huge and I was very impressed with my gardening prowess. But I've never been able to grow them since. I'm beginning to suspect my mother, who has ten green fingers instead of just a thumb, secretly nurtured them. She can't help it. It's in her nature to nurture. But I have no luck with them. Whether I plant them from seed, starting off in tiny plastic cups of potting soil, carefully tending the little shoots until they seem big and strong enough to withstand the vagaries of the garden's terra firma, or whether I cheat a little and buy the plants already bursting with buds, I get the same result. They wilt (oops, forgot to add water), they get eaten (chipmunks? slugs?), they get stepped on (dog). After a week or two there's nothing left but a brown withered stump where I wanted giant globular petals.
The garden is planted in a raised bed, supported by a nice retaining wall of wooden beams. At one end, it's flourishing. I've got daylillies and stella d'oro mixed in with huge fuscia peonies. At the border there's lush emerald green sweet william, and right next to that is a giant seedum (autumn joy I believe). The black-eyed Susans are ready to take over when the peonies fade. But at the other end there's nothing tall. There are a couple of stella d'oro, and I was pleasantly surprised to see a healthy coreopsis that I planted last year and forgot about. There's a strange looking variegated seedum which has clearly been trampled on by the aforementioned dog, and floppy remnants of tulips that bloomed gloriously in April before turning into so much detritus, yellow and brown and faded.
Even the reflecting ball is looking rather dull. It's supposed to be a vibrant royal blue, reflecting the sun and whatever colors the garden provides. It seems to have faded, like my dining room carpet, from the sun's rays.
I guess all my garden really needs is a little drama. I could move some bigger plants around so we have some symmetry. I should prop up the variegated seedum so it doesn't look so lazy, like a fat lady at the grocery store who leans heavily on the handle of her grocery cart because she can't manage to stand up straight. Discipline, that's what's called for. I'm trying to exercise it here with my writing. I should try it outside too.
posted by calabresewoman | 2:32 PM
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