We didn’t get to eat asparagus, though. Being the greedy person I am, I decided to
wait one more day so we could have more of the delicious stuff.
After we got the onions in, my husband (hereinafter referred
to as ‘C’ since he wishes to remain anonymous following yesterday’s rant) tried
long and hard to start his tiller. Didn't happen. God
is good! No plants were harmed through
C’s over-enthusiastic use of said machine.
Meanwhile, I went back to cleaning up my holding bed. Virtually every plant over-wintered
successfully: daffodils, day lilies,
irises, perennial geraniums, hydrangeas, bluebells, dianthus, stonecrop,
chives, forsythia, spirea, and even some heritage rose bushes. I’ve never been successful with roses. The person who gave them to me said she had
actually tried unsuccessfully to kill them off.
There has to be a lesson in that.
I was especially excited to see two peonies popping through
the ground, discards from another friend’s bed.
I adore the outrageously gaudy appearance of peonies, but there’s no
room to accommodate them in my flower beds here at home. I once planted a pair of them on either side
of a ‘telephone tower’ (those ugly brown aluminum things that are scattered
throughout urban areas) at the edge of my lawn, but someone cut a cable and the
linemen trampled all over them when they came to make repairs. (No, that time it wasn’t my dear
husband.) I’ll have to protect them from
the wind (and the tiller) with tomato cages later.
When we build our new home at the farm, I’ll have plenty of
plant material to start my foundation plantings and the berm I’ve been
designing (and revising) in my head for the past couple of years.
My attempt at making a ‘lasagna bed’ has met with mixed
results. The only shady area on our farm
is a curved row of spruce trees that border the lane between the barn and our
vegetable garden. Winter before last I
came across an article about creating a new bed using the ‘lasagna
method’. “Aha!” thought I, “the perfect
solution to making a shade bed at the farm!”
I spent all summer long digging out the most persistent weeds – burdocks
and dandelions – then section by section between the trees, laying down several
thicknesses of newspaper that had been soaked thoroughly to prevent it from
flying away and to accelerate its eventual decomposition. I covered the newspapers with a generous
layer of compost, then a layer of spoiled straw, then a layer of pony and goat
manure (It’s a good thing I value their droppings, because neither creature is
good for much else.), and finally another layer of straw. Then, like Rumplestiltskin, I waited for Mother Nature to work her magic,
turning straw not into gold, but into soil.
Dreams of my beautiful shade bed made our long, dreary winter more bearable.
Well, Ma N did a fine job at the top end of the bed. But as she worked her way towards the bottom,
she was prevented from accomplishing the desired result by an over-enthusiastic
top layer of straw. I managed to
circumvent the decomposition process by piling it on too deep. So I spent much of the afternoon turning the
stuff over, bringing the wonderful rotten stuff to the top in preparation for
another application of compost and pony poop.
Hopefully, it’ll be ready to plant by fall, but if not, I’ll have
another winter to design that end of the bed in my head. I must remember to take my camera with me so
I can display my new, if far from complete) shade bed to all and sundry.
I’ve been splitting the perennials in my shade bed at home
and moving them down to the farm. After
years of struggling to grow in sticky clay, they’re luxuriating (along with a
bumper crop of earthworms) in the new soil Ma N created at the top of my new bed. Thus far, I’ve planted five hostas, some wild
violets, a couple of astilbes, several small bleeding hearts, a couple of
clumps of lady’s mantle, and four clumps of silver mound that miraculously made
it through the winter virtually bare-rooted in a pot above the ground. The silver mound nagged at my guilty
conscience all winter long. A friend
gave it to me late in the fall and I just never got around to planting it. How ungrateful! Early this spring, I moved the broken old
plastic pot to my garage door intending to throw it on the compost heap at the
farm. When I was about to put it into
the back of my van, I noticed some new growth at the base. Lo and behold, I split it up into four
sections and planted it in my new bed where it has thrived ever since.
Well, my friends, I hope I haven’t bored you with this long
entry. Having typed it out twice, I’m
definitely bored. Happy gardening to
all, and to all a good night.
Yahoo!! A nice, warm, sunny day, if more than a little windy! Spent most of my day playing in the dirt. Dug some plants out of my beds at home to move into my new lasagna bed at out farm. Split a couple of hostas, dug out a big hunk of silver mound (that I broke into four pieces), uprooted some lungwort, and took out a large area of wild violets. Fell as I was lugging a pail full of compost tea. Now I have a shoulder that's a bit tender.
A friend came by to chat while I was chomping at the bit to get to the farm.
Loaded everything into my van and was about to head to the farm when a customer called about buying some hay. Made arrangements to meet his son at the farm. Began transplanting the hostas when I noticed some young people at the barn. Went to tie up one of our hounds who's allowed to run free in the barn. Arrrrrrgggggggggghhhhhhhhh! They had already opened the big door and Gennie had gotten free. Fortunately, the young lad who had come for the hay chased her in his truck and was successful in catching her, but got stuck in our hay field. Grrrrrrr! Had to pull him out with the tractor and made a big mess of the bottom end of the field. We got Gennie penned up and the kids loaded the hay and were on their way, undoubtedly comparing notes on the bitchy old lady they had to deal with.
Finished weeding a large area of my new flower bed and transplanting the remaining plants. Tidied up some debris that had blown around and headed back home where I weeded and edged one of my beds. What a difference to see it looking crisp and tidy again. I have a feeling I'm going to be more than a little stiff in the morning, though.