I know, I haven’t posted in quite a while. Well, I haven’t gardened in quite a while either. Perhaps you remember my pitifully short garden to do list from last year? I do. It haunts me. Daily. And in my mind it has grown exponentially.
But I’ve been a tad bit busy. Since my little Rose (what else?) was born in July, I have managed to get into the garden roughly four times. You see, there are many (surprisingly many) things one can do with an infant tied strategically to one’s chest but if gardening is one of those things, well I haven’t figured out how. But the little Rose did sit in her bouncy chair in September for a few minutes while I pulled weeds (until I realized I was pulling with a tad too much enthusiasm and the little one had a head full of dirt). Then in October I spent half an hour doing my winter pruning in a mad effort to take down the roses; in November I finally moved the daisies; and in December I emptied three of the five bags of mulch sitting in my driveway. Ta-da.
By New Year’s Eve I had drawn multiple plans for next year’s garden and had a head full of dreams.
Some of those dreams involve a tiny trowel and pail for my little helper. Others involve the daisies.
I was very excited for this particular transplant.
The daisies had been growing radically taller than the juniper and Japanese maple bordering them, embarrassing my little tree and shrubs in their white-petaled exuberance. Finally I decided on a spot to move these hardy flowers: just outside the tidy borders of the mulch that surrounds the pond. Right now the remains of the daisies look like little renegades, just toeing the line of mulch. But to my way of thinking, this was the first step to what will be a glorious cut-flower bed later this summer. I’m mentally picking out mass plantings in such a way that I’m hoping to ultimately have blooms from the first yellow daffodils and tulips in March and April to the last pansies of December. Lantana. Coreopsis. Black-eyed Susans. Thick lamb’s ear around the feet of a little white bench… ahhh. Just saying the names is a mantra more relaxing than any yoga class (as if I had time for that either).