Recently the weather here has been almost perfect--sure it's been too dry. Our pond has become little more than a puddle. But it has been sunny, clear and not too warm. I hear that a Canadian air mass seems to have settled over us. Very few bugs even. I noticed on my days off that even fabric shopping doesn't have the pull that it normally does. I'd much rather just stay home and work in my garden. Of course I am a "good" business woman. On days my studio in Shelburne Falls is supposed to be open, I am open. I have lots of work to do--orders to fill, quilts I need to have. At the end of July I am even doing what should be a wonderful craft show down in Wilmington, DE through the Pennsylvania Guild of Craftspeople. But at the end of the day I hurry home and head for the garden. Supper has become at best a rather informal affair. Salads and sandwiches. Poor DH.
Why though? After all gardening is hard dirty work. My muscles ache. I get splinters in my fingers. And still the weeds keep growing. I just can't catch up. That's what I've been thinking about recently. I read on my day lily forum of one gentleman who spend a day moving hundred pound clumps of hostas to a new bed and I am jealous. (Yes, I am a member of the American Hemerocallis Society--it is fun being involved with something that isn't quilts.) Another woman writes of weeding all day and tumbling into bed and I envy her. Right now my gardens don't even look that good. It is almost an in-between season here. The Siberian iris have ended and need to be dead headed. How short that season is. The Japanese iris are just beginning. Only a few day lilies are blooming right now--my favorite is pinocchio.
Sweet, isn't it? Such a tiny perky flower. But mostly they are just promising blooms for later.
So why do I want to spend my time in the garden? Some write of the meditative nature of gardening. Certainly that is true. My mind wanders into a quiet rhythm as I weed the new seedlings. There is the fun of looking at the new blooms. The feeling of power and strength. I wrestle one yarrow that is too tall out of the bed. Hot and sweaty work but such a sense of accomplishment. I'll put a hemorocallis flava there to accent the peony.
And it is this vision that is part of my desire. I look at the rock garden with its hardy mums. Let me show you.
All pale yellow. They bloom at the end of the season when little else is left. But it's overgrown. Brambles have started to grow in it. I see it every day when I come home. I wonder if I can thin out the mums. Put in a few miniature iris at the edge. Find room for more day lilies--whites and pinks I think will look really great against the barn board. What fun to pull out the mums and discover such lovely rocks. I add compost and bark mulch. Hmm. What do you think?
More mums need to get pulled. The lilacs need to be pruned. And that Stella--I am getting a bit weary of Stella. What else can I plant there?
In many ways it's like making a quilt. Visioning the whole and then putting them together. Although unlike a quilt, I will have to wait for at least a year to see if it really works. And then unlike a quilt it will change in a week or two as the seasons change. Clearly I need to plant bulbs this fall. Won't that be glorious in the spring? Maybe even some fall crocuses would be lovely. Interesting thought. Taller day lilies up by the house would also be nice. What do you think? Do you find it hard to come inside on a nice day?