It could be a metaphor?

When I moved the two tons of extra gravel from the front yard to its current temp spot by the garage, the only sad thing was that it covered up a hyacinth bulb. It wasn’t a GREAT hyacinth bulb – it always fell over the same day it bloomed. So I felt bad about it for a moment, then kept pouring 20 more wheelbarrowfulls of gravel on top.

Well, this spring, who pushed up through dirt, mulch, and 2 feet of gravel, bloomed, and promptly lay face down?

I’m so impressed at this flower’s spirit, and so amused that even after all that work, blooming was so exhausting for it.


Other garden things, now that we are deep enough in Spring to be past the first wave of daffodils:

I’m starting to gather steam on the kitchen path. There’s an azalea about to bloom any second, right where the path will eventually go. I’m certainly going to pause (aka, not start?) the digging long enough to enjoy that first. I’d like to transplant it, even though it’s enormous. Maybe the front yard? It seems to really like being in a sunny spot, and I’m having trouble finding somewhere large enough in the back where it is visible from the house, compatible with the things next to it, and won’t be in the shade.

Meanwhile, my plan to dig out the monster-size hydrangea and just keep a few of the off-shoots seems to have worked beautifully. They’re green and lovely, and already growing. The hydrangea root ball is also amusing me, since it’s undaunted by being hacked to bits and out of the ground – it’s still cheerfully alive and covered in leaves. I haven’t known what to do with it at all. I can’t saw through it because of the rocks, can’t put it in the compost bin whole. Light it on fire? Replant it next to the new patio?

My calendula and hostas from Bob (a gift when he was thinning out his beds last fall) are acting very happy so far.

I love the way hostas appear in the Spring – tightly scrolled, tall, and so green.

All of our edged, weeded, mulched beds on the top shelf look lovely. I ripped out about half the sod up here (and a level ton of creeping violets) and I’m so hopeful that the mulch will keep things more-or-less in line going forward. I’m ready to get off the endless-weeding train.

The bunny fence is still in great shape, and there’s a new grouping of tulips, snowdrops and crocuses that are making a delicious, delicious meal for someone. Bunny? Squirrel? Not a single bloom has lasted more than a day. (It might be the same creature who keeps nipping green tulip heads off the top of the stem, and leaving them, whole, on the ground at the base of the plant. Squirrel with a personality disorder?)

These are the last of the early daffodils (there should be a second round in a few weeks), and the early tulips, a riot of color. The lavender along the path is looking stunning, and I’m very proud of myself for figuring out how to prune the two blueberry bushes. I watched a lot of youtube videos of farmers from Maine, and I think I didn’t do badly. I didn’t prune last year, and we didn’t really get any berries (they were little then dry, then the birds ate them. You’re supposed to prune back 50-70% per year, and I think I make a good effort.

These tulips are just SO BRIGHT. This is the view from next to our bedroom window.

I love the chairs with all their green/yellow-green/blue-green backdrop.

All those new leaves are beautiful from our bedroom, and even better from the chairs.

I need to figure out what to do with the beds in this corner. Hostas, maybe? There’s one under the lilac, I feel like two or three more would be lovely on that side of the path. I’ve been transplanting ferns there madly, and they seem to be taking off, so that’s hopeful, too. The house-side options need to be shade-loving and tolerant of dry, fast-draining, acidic soil. A tricky mix. Most of the great shade-loving, acidity-tolerating PNW plants like to be wet. I need something that can live there, cheerfully, and not need to be watered. I tried to continue the lavender/sage/thyme to the gate, knowing it probably wouldn’t get enough sun, and sure enough it’s all sad little sticks with a leaf or two – such a mad contrast to the wild growth of the sunnier spots. I’m not sure I’ll solve it this year (the kitchen side path, rock wall, and veggie gardens are probably going to be my three big projects this summer) but I will still watch for something nice.

2 thoughts on “It could be a metaphor?”

  1. the determined hyacinth is such nice symbolism for spring 🙂
    i love the green hostas and cheerful red tulilps!

  2. Everything looks lovely – great payback for all the work you’ve done! (And for all the work the hyacinth did growing through a bed of rock – I hope it was happy relaxing in the sun.) The tulips did beautifully coming back for the second year, which is often less successful than the first.
    If a ground cover would work for the house side spot, pachysandra thrives in those conditions.

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