This is getting a little ridiculous!
I can hardly walk in the lower end of the back garden. The lawn is saturated, the planting beds are a swamp. and those are the areas that are usually dry. The depression that runs along the lower southern border stays damp through the year from the constant trickle of a spring, but today the water is inches deep, and who knows if the rodgersia and cobra lilies have been swept away.
If you watch the news you could consider that we are lucky to measure our rain by the inch, and not the foot, and I suppose this is better than whining about drought. And why complain anyway? Except for the few plants that have been carried out to sea, the garden is lush and happy. We have had no extremes in hot or cold this spring, and the rain is not much more than is normal. Still, I want to be rid of the mud. I want a string of dry, sunny days so that I have to wonder if the time has come to bring out the hoses to irrigate the new plantings. Then, it can rain, overnight.
The garden is growing vigorously, but it has not reached the “jungle” stage, when you have to squeeze and push between hostas and nandinas to struggle down the stone walkways. That is another two weeks from now, and then my wife will crusade with her silly, lightweight pruners to chop back anything that dares to stray into her path. Occasionally she accomplishes something worthwhile, and rarely does she do much harm. If I object she says that if I would take care of it, she wouldn’t have to, and how can I argue with that?
Today you’ll see a few photos of the garden here, rather than only blooms of a single plant. When I see splendid gardens photographed in magazines I’m certain that mine could never stand with those, but I can grow a hellebore or an iris with a flower as beautiful as any. Regardless, here are a few pictures before disaster strikes, when everything flops over its neighbor, and it can be difficult to distinguish where one plant ends and the next begins.
There are only a few areas of the garden that are worthy of photographing, since lurking around every other turn in the path there is a pile of this or that waiting to be hauled off. My wife informs me that this summer she will keep after me to clean up these messes, but I’m not convinced. It is so much more enjoyable to create, to dig and plant, rather than maintaining and cleaning up, and I am guilty of avoiding these tasks for as long as possible. The sloppy ground provides a convenient excuse.