Yesterday (this is an older post, some two or more weeks ago) my faithful gardener, a.k.a. "hubby," and I began the struggle with the Lamb's Ear that has bullied its gentle neighboring plants for months. There were originally three plants (what, oh what was I thinking?) in a corner of the upper terrace, so I poked at it with a deep spade, trying to pry loose the roots so the jumble of plants could be divided and moved to the new area below the bird bath. What a job! Aided by the loose compost in the bed, those plants had sunk iron determination into the soil with its roots. This was one of those times when moving a plant became a personal struggle between Nature and myself. When Charles rescued the situation with his shovel, I was amazed at the roots and the linking runners between the new plants. No wonder I couldn't manage it with a spade!
We decided to put the Lamb's Ear in a contained space of its own at the base of Charles' bird bath. If it escapes the surrounding stone, it will have to duke it out with the other beautiful garden thug, a mullien that will bloom as long as you give it a sip of water. As both the mulliens and the Lamb's Ear are nearly indestructible, I will sit on the patio and sip tea and watch the battle from afar.
There are two Lamb's Ear plantings (which translates to a blue million plants) left in the corner of the raised bed. One I will leave there, the other will be lifted (somehow that word does not adequately convey the struggle) for my niece, Nahum, who is an avid gardener.
Meanwhile, Breck's has shipped the hundreds of bulbs I ordered in the spring. I am having a Bulb Planting Party the last weekend in October, and those who participate may share the bulbs. Nahum's motto is "Have trowel, will travel!" Charles is getting antsy, however, wants to plant them now, in small amounts. I prefer the One Big Bash method, where everything is laid out in its place and the digging goes from there. Now we must lay in a large supply of bulb food (do they put this up in four cubit foot bags?) and polish up our shovels in preparation for The Event.
We did have a little moment of practice, though, with the Adorables this morning. We planted about twenty-five or so bulbs beside the tool shed in the side yard. The children were interested for a longer time than we thought possible. But, it is obvious that Bethy is not a gardener. Ethan works eagerly, slopping dirt, plant food, water-- but enjoying himself. He is very fond of his tiny gloves!
Then there will be a little re-locating of shrubs and plants to more hospitable environments. My back spasmed as I typed that sentence. Eventually, though, I keep telling myself that the garden will be in order, everything will grow undisturbed, and life on Penny Lane will be an unbroken cycle of bloom, feeding, and the long winter sleep.
Take a look, in passing, at how well the nasturtium have done, after that slow, floundering start:
The sedum are moving toward a bright autumn display:
Now, if we might have a bit of rain to soften up the earth a bit . . .
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