A peony for your thoughts...

Alas, the iris and the peony blooms are gone.

The golden yarrow and the blue salvia are now taking pride of place.







Up next: tiger lilies, dahlias and zinnias with a foxglove making a surprise appearance from last year (at least I think it’s a foxglove…weeds have a way of self preservation through emulative camouflage). In another month the hydrangea will dominate and, damn it all to hell, the forsythia bush/tree will need another major pruning. I love it all…the weeds, the work, the dirt, the sudden accidental self-watering of a wayward nozzle (and some not-so accidental). Like a kid in mud I love the feel and muskiness of dirty hands and knees and elbows, and even the sudden explosive sneezes from the dust and pollen helps give it all a certain satisfactory physicality. The rivulets of sweat, the muscle aches and the occasional bloody knuckle are not the negatives one might think. It all serves the end result: natural beauty and the feeling of success at achieving it. Indoor plants are okay, I guess; they are decorative and need to be fussed over, but there’s something really nice about tending to and contending with a big-city small backyard garden; a little patch of eden hidden from passersby out front. I do not grow vegetables.