Every morning, when I get home from driving William to school, I get out of my car, start, walking toward the house, and then stop and stand staring like an idiot at my garden. My neighbors probably think I’m crazy (actually, they already have plenty of other reasons to think that).
What am I doing? Well, to be honest, I’m admiring it, because it’s pretty and I’m just a little proud of what I’ve accomplished in just one year. But more than that, I’m analyzing it, thinking about what needs to be moved around, what I’ll add later in the season or next year, what’s too tall, what was a bad idea.
If I were a methodical gardener I would have made a plan before I started. I didn’t. In late winter I downloaded some kind of planning grid thingie and got bored after a few minutes. If I were a methodical gardener, I would have properly amended my soil. I didn’t. Instead, I dig out lumps of clay and rock, throw in a handful of potting soil, and hope for the best. Sometimes I don’t even bother with the potting soil. The rocks should help with drainage, right? If I were a methodical gardener, I would have investigated how big the plants would get before I planted them. I would have put little tags next to them to say what they are. I might even have kept a garden journal. Instead, I’m like: “This is the pink-blue-purple side of the garden, so let’s put any pink, purple, or blue things we like over here wherever we can find room for them!” People ask the name of a particular plant and I say, “It might be salvia. Or maybe sage. Who knows?” I can look on google images if I ever really need to know, right?
What kind of gardener am I? A lazy gardener, clearly, which is why I plant mostly perennials. Some day my work will be done, right? And a lucky one, judging by my lack of effort and the passable results.
The photos below are from what we call the “hot” garden, where I attempt to plant only things that are orange, yellow, and white. There are also red roses here (about which more further down) but I don’t want any more red things. Why the color scheme? Because the first summer we were here, the nice gardening lady across the street gave me a bunch of lily bulbs and some other perennial thing, which I just haphazardly stuck over here because I had no plan whatsoever and they turned out to be yellow. So.
The lilies aren’t blooming yet but you can see where they are in the picture below. Those other yellow things, which are really tall, will be right behind them, unless the shade from the roses kills them.
Let’s talk about the roses, shall we? If you know anything at all about roses, then you can see that’s a climbing rose. If you know anything about gardens, you’ll know that only an idiot would put a climbing rose in the middle of a flower bed. I am happy to say I was not that idiot. But I also don’t know much about roses, so I didn’t know that this was going to happen when I let it (it being basically a couple of thorny twigs when I started this) stay there. It’s outgrown the trellis I put in place last year–in fact it is pulling the trellis out of the ground and leaning forward. It stubbornly refuses to get blackspot like every other rose I’ve ever grown and instead is vigorous and healthy and growing like kudzu. I want to get an arbor thing to cross the walkway in front of it, and maybe also attach a trellis to the porch overhang behind it. But do you know how much arbors cost, y’all?
Below we have the mailbox garden. Gotta have one of those, don’t we? The daylilies were already there–Stella D’Oro, I believe (see, I do know something!). There is also one lone gigantic lily that looks kind of stupid there all by itself, but I can’t kill healthy plants, so it will stay. The red plant is a mandevilla which my neighbor gave me for my birthday. The pot said it was good to plant by your mailbox and who am I to argue? You might also notice a variety of herbs in this picture. Yes, this is my herb garden and we used the herbs to cook all through the winter even. The basil dried right there on the stalk. More laziness that paid off!
This side has mint. All varieties of mint. And yes, I am aware of what mint does, and it’s already doing it, but I don’t really care because it smells good.
Now here’s the “cool” side of the garden and I’m probably going to post too many pictures because this is my favorite part and I just can’t leave any of them out!
Please excuse the long grass at the edges because 1) My lawn mower is (still) broken and 2) I’m not finished yet. There won’t ever be a clearly defined border at the edge because the eventual plan is for this side to take over the whole front yard, doing away with its crappy veneer of grass over clay a couple of feet every year, depending on my time, energy, and financial situation.
My garden doesn’t look like the other gardens in this neighborhood. That’s what John said, and I consider that a compliment, because who really needs another boring suburban garden, all symmetrical and defined by clumps of liriope with measured distances between them? We are going for the wild look here.
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