Gardening

I think spring has finally arrived.  I know….bold statement for me to make since I trust no weather, but at last, the feeling that long cold snaps have passed is there.  A couple of weeks ago, I went to the garden center and purchased a pallet of river rock so we never have to mulch again and while there I eyed the plants…oh, how I eyed them, but left without, yearning and unsettled for leaving seven months of brown behind, and springing into riots of colors.

Now, at last, I feel it’s time to make my decisions on what to plant.  Last fall, we changed the house color from a dusky green to a pale blue with bright white trim and a cobalt blue front door.

I’m thinking a Monet palette would be in order - yellows, pinks, whites, lavenders.  Tom is a huge fan of George Meis’ Greek photos comprised of mainly blue and white with red accents, and this one hangs in the powder room off the kitchen.

Because of that, I am planning on painting the ceramic planters on the front “porch” a cheerful cherry red and getting more to sit on the rock where mulch and rabbits used to live.  Since we had the painter also paint the trim in the back the same bright white, I want to carry the theme to the newly enlarged deck, but therein it gets tricky.  100% southern exposure with little to no shade – cactus have died out there, and I’m not the most attentive of plant mothers.  I used to be.  I suppose with determination I could be again.  Isn't that what women of a certain age are supposed to like - wide brimmed hats, flowing shirts, gloved hands, and fully feeling the Earth Mother vibe as we dig into potting soil?

I need to immerse myself into the world of container plants and figure out what would work best in the vastly different conditions between the front of the house and the back.  I know that somewhere there will be black eyed Susans since they are the closest I’ll get to sunflowers (my favorite of all flowers), but after that, I’m at a loss.  Even plants on my northern exposure porch have to be watered twice daily in the summer, but I love the color variety and the lushness of double impatiens, as delicate as they are.  We have a dead dwarf spruce by the porch (thank you ever so much Mr. DuPont and your imprelis) that I’ve been trying to get the hubby or son to cut down for months.  There are 4 or 5 bags of river rock piled up on the porch waiting to take it’s place.  I think I need to attire myself in long sleeves and gloves, find a saw, and do it myself.  Timberrrrrrrrrrrr.

I also need to find out where the men-folk put my tins of bird seed, and fill the feeders in the back yard.  I need my goldfinch buddies when I’m on the deck.  

The much beloved Tupelo tree is no more after a windstorm last year, and now there is a void in the back yard that was once full of waxy, beautiful leaves.  I need to get something into that spot also, but it took the Tupelo over 10 years to achieve its majesty, and I’m not willing to wait that long.  In ten years, I plan on being in a ranch house with no…count them….zero stairs.

I’d like to finish the landscaping around the sides and back of the house – put pavers with Irish moss between them under the deck.  Need to find the original landscape blueprint from 15 years ago.  All I remember are dwarf lilacs.  Then again, this is all probably for naught this year, as I was warned that this might be the summer we need to replace the air conditioner (last fall was a new furnace and water heater.)  Why must houses get old? As soon as I save enough money for a nice vacation, it goes back into the house.

I have an entire summer worth of yard labor with no concrete ideas planned.  Anyone game?