In the Garden

Yesterday Charles and I spent time at Autumn Hill Nursery.  What a wonderful place to find plants and planting advice!  The nicest surprise was that I found old-fashioned Hollyhocks, in pinks and peach, to plant along the bedroom side of the house.  There are three beds there between the steps to the lower front of the house and the upper, where the studio and main garden areas are.  I had Hollyhocks one year in Knoxville, but the next year someone went out to weed for me and pulled up the alleged intruders . . . .  I have embarked upon a strong plan of education since that time.

I found these photos of Hollyhocks on line:

The bonus is this:  I have moved my much-loved drafting table so that I have light falling over my left shoulder.  This turning of the table means I have a perfect view of the Hollyhock plantings!  Bethy and I will have the benefit of Azaleas, Lantana, the tiny daffodils and tall tulips, and now the Hollyhocks for drawing during the spring and summer.  If the roses on the fence survive Warren's energetic pruning, we will even having climbing roses for a short month in the summer.

Charles and I also began planting the border lining the walk between the house and studio.  I've started with pink salvia.  Getting down to dig and plant is a monumental effort.  Somehow I thought the new hip would make things easier, but not for this ground-level effort.  I don't know how I'll get the little Thyme and Scotch Moss between the slates of the patio, now.  Poor Charles— I never meant for this to be his job.  I love the smell of earth and the feel of composted soil between my fingers.  Theodore Roethke, quite naturally, is one of my favorite poets.  His poetry is peppered with images drawn from the greenhouses of his childhood.  In two lines (from "Root Cellar") he gives meaning to my love of gardens and gardening:

Nothing would give up life:

Even the dirt kept breathing a small breath.

This year, I imagine my sketchbooks of seed pods and flowers will begin to bulge.  Hope so, anyway.