This Is Progress

We tend to do things on a whim, to go outside for a brisk moment, and the next thing you know, it's on. We're in full-blown project mode. This is how our first garden bed came into being, a seemingly random stretch between two trees and next to the driveway. Why there? Simply whim.

When my parents travel cross state to visit, I resemble a first-grader at Show and Tell, talking with enthusiasm and waving my hands about to punctuate each sentence. This fated day was no different, and each turn had a story as we migrated through the house to the yard and around to what was once a gate. "It surrendered against Old Man Winter," I said as Mike leaned against the remaining six-foot section of fence.

Bam! Whim!

A moment later, I'm on my hands and knees, tearing out a tangled root system alongside my dad while Mike was tearing down and digging out what remained of the gate. Mom was humming to herself as she reorganized the shed.

 It was a mess of insidious ivy, emerging spring bulbs, and overgrown roses.

...And items of unknown origin, including a hardware store's worth of nuts and bolts as well as random pavers that we've been collecting from all over the yard.

Clearing the ivy's vast system of roots was the biggest challenge. We filled six yard waste bags while philosophizing on the roots, i.e. history, of the hundred year old house and garden that must have been much adored at some point. (I love having these chats, Dad!)

 In this battle, victory was ours to be had, as well as the opportunity to practice my hatcheting skills.

Then we were faced with a blank canvas, but as luck will have it, I have been hoarding a number of shrubs since we moved in, two of which are peeking out from the corner.

I made a quick sketch on graph paper to get an idea of how the plants would fit in the space once they were fully grown. I tried to get a balance of foliage colors from light (Ghost weigela and Chardonnay Pearls deutzia) to dark (Spilled Wine weigela and Black Lace elderberry). There is also interest for three seasons, with spring and summer flowers as well as strong fall color from Quick Fire hydrangea.

After I chose the plants on paper, I laid out the pots in the space, ultimately deciding that Vanilla Spice summersweet would have to go in a different spot. Sorry, friend.

What began as a whim will hopefully become 19 feet of gardening gold. There's still work to do in this area, such as giving that poor clematis something to climb on, but it feels so good to finally plant something. This is progress.

Spring Bulbs

Bulbs are amazing. I'm declaring them so. As dozens of surprise packages are sprouting across the yard, I stand with my arms raised in victory, gleefully laughing and saying, "Look! No hands!"

Bulbs are my first victory as a gardener, even if somebody else planted them long ago and my only part in their success was raking leaves away. Maybe some of these plants are really perennials. Perennial bulbs? Are there annual bulbs? Oh, I'm making things up, but either way, I'm thankful for them and making note to plant more in the fall.

(Gardening Truth: Bulbs are perennials and will come back each year unless your conditions kill them off - remember zones? If that is the case, you use them as you would annuals. Also, some summer-flowering bulbs are planted in spring. This information comes courtesy of the ever knowledgable and patient Stacey, co-worker and plant genius. Thanks!)

First came these little gems, identified as Siberian Squill.

Then came the daffodils.

Kicking it now are violets, which are perennials and not bulbs (our little secret).

Coming up next are the Lily of the Valley, favorites of mine since I was a wee one.