spring and winter flowers
Dec. 19th, 2003 02:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jinianWhew. I just spent a really good couple of hours playing in the dirt.
First I decided, given the placement of the trash cans this past Tuesday, to leave the driveway-side flowerbed the size it is. That way the trash cans are less likely to squash things when they're set down incautiously by the garbage carriers. The area by the road is now looking like a sort of flowerbed-and-lawn patchwork in my mind, with the lawn parts being at least strips between the flower sections. That should also solve the problem I've been thinking about in which people park their cars along the road and then don't know how to get out on that side. (Probably then they tromp on things, because they suck, which I must admit was my main concern. But it's nice that they will probably feel better now too.)
I planted the accumulated pansies in that bed, after loosening up the horrible clay soil with my big fork, and put in the hyacinths between them. It's late for bulbs, but some people still call this autumn for another two days. There are a bunch of rocks on the foundation of the shed in the backyard, and they're not doing anything, so I pressed some of them into service as sentries for the edge of the newly-planted area, where they look pretty good.
Surprisingly, that wasn't enough playing with plants, so I started weeding one of the beds by the front porch. It had only a few weeds, partly because it tends to be really dry; I hadn't bothered compensating for the overhang in a while, since nothing in particular was in it. Besides the weeds, though, I found at least a hundred squills, all set to come up wherever there had been any kind of moisture in there. I dragged out huge clumps of them, and plenty of singles, despite the way that I dug up that bed without regard for them last summer. I did the same thing again today, but removed all the bulbs I found.
In that bed now we have three little clumps of narcissus, which seem to have gone crazy with the dividing since last year. I'm sure that when Mom gave me this little pot there were only three bulbs total. The primroses that were also in the pot are planted with them. It occurred to me to put some of the squills back into that bed, but I'm sure some of the little bastards are still in there, three feet deep. (And they'll be very pretty in not too long, I know.)
A cautious stroking in the soil of the camas pot showed some live roots, so there will be at least last year's two bulbs of those later. The seeds are being fridge-stratified at present, and might germinate if I'm lucky. They'll be busy making bulbs for themselves the first year, but they might be camas flowers in a couple of years. All the camas will probably remain potted, just because it costs so much to buy bulbs. We won't be here forever, after all, though I hope we will for at least another year.
Some sense of cosmic (or maybe just Darwinian) fitness prompted me to put the squills in the area that's been taken over by English ivy. Given that the earth will have to be salted anyway if anyone wants to get rid of the ivy for long, I didn't feel like I was spreading any demon-plant contagion. And, you know, it's nice to plant things that can take care of themselves. Just make a momentary hole in the ivy with vicious overhand stabs, pull out a spadeful of dirt or so, and drop in a handful of squills. If feeling generous, put dirt on top of them. No problem.
The thing I hadn't anticipated was that the dirt under the ivy, which is under the flowering quince, is wonderful. I should have thought of it, of course, since it gets leaves and rotting fruit (not that quinces rot quickly; I found half a dozen of them sitting in there without looking, sound as can be) every year, plus protection by the ivy. Once I rescue the overgrown roses from that corner, I may have to steal some of the soil for elsewhere in the yard.
There's still a huge amount to do. The roses all need pruning, as do several other things, and there are more beds I want to clear. My dad gave me a grape vine that wants to be planted soon, and I still have chionodoxa bulbs to put somewhere. Oh, and the irises need dividing and a new place to live. I suppose I could pot them up until I cleared some room, it's just the dividing that I want to do while they're maximally dormant. Sometimes I wish I had a climate in which things really went to sleep for the winter, but that wouldn't be home.
First I decided, given the placement of the trash cans this past Tuesday, to leave the driveway-side flowerbed the size it is. That way the trash cans are less likely to squash things when they're set down incautiously by the garbage carriers. The area by the road is now looking like a sort of flowerbed-and-lawn patchwork in my mind, with the lawn parts being at least strips between the flower sections. That should also solve the problem I've been thinking about in which people park their cars along the road and then don't know how to get out on that side. (Probably then they tromp on things, because they suck, which I must admit was my main concern. But it's nice that they will probably feel better now too.)
I planted the accumulated pansies in that bed, after loosening up the horrible clay soil with my big fork, and put in the hyacinths between them. It's late for bulbs, but some people still call this autumn for another two days. There are a bunch of rocks on the foundation of the shed in the backyard, and they're not doing anything, so I pressed some of them into service as sentries for the edge of the newly-planted area, where they look pretty good.
Surprisingly, that wasn't enough playing with plants, so I started weeding one of the beds by the front porch. It had only a few weeds, partly because it tends to be really dry; I hadn't bothered compensating for the overhang in a while, since nothing in particular was in it. Besides the weeds, though, I found at least a hundred squills, all set to come up wherever there had been any kind of moisture in there. I dragged out huge clumps of them, and plenty of singles, despite the way that I dug up that bed without regard for them last summer. I did the same thing again today, but removed all the bulbs I found.
In that bed now we have three little clumps of narcissus, which seem to have gone crazy with the dividing since last year. I'm sure that when Mom gave me this little pot there were only three bulbs total. The primroses that were also in the pot are planted with them. It occurred to me to put some of the squills back into that bed, but I'm sure some of the little bastards are still in there, three feet deep. (And they'll be very pretty in not too long, I know.)
A cautious stroking in the soil of the camas pot showed some live roots, so there will be at least last year's two bulbs of those later. The seeds are being fridge-stratified at present, and might germinate if I'm lucky. They'll be busy making bulbs for themselves the first year, but they might be camas flowers in a couple of years. All the camas will probably remain potted, just because it costs so much to buy bulbs. We won't be here forever, after all, though I hope we will for at least another year.
Some sense of cosmic (or maybe just Darwinian) fitness prompted me to put the squills in the area that's been taken over by English ivy. Given that the earth will have to be salted anyway if anyone wants to get rid of the ivy for long, I didn't feel like I was spreading any demon-plant contagion. And, you know, it's nice to plant things that can take care of themselves. Just make a momentary hole in the ivy with vicious overhand stabs, pull out a spadeful of dirt or so, and drop in a handful of squills. If feeling generous, put dirt on top of them. No problem.
The thing I hadn't anticipated was that the dirt under the ivy, which is under the flowering quince, is wonderful. I should have thought of it, of course, since it gets leaves and rotting fruit (not that quinces rot quickly; I found half a dozen of them sitting in there without looking, sound as can be) every year, plus protection by the ivy. Once I rescue the overgrown roses from that corner, I may have to steal some of the soil for elsewhere in the yard.
There's still a huge amount to do. The roses all need pruning, as do several other things, and there are more beds I want to clear. My dad gave me a grape vine that wants to be planted soon, and I still have chionodoxa bulbs to put somewhere. Oh, and the irises need dividing and a new place to live. I suppose I could pot them up until I cleared some room, it's just the dividing that I want to do while they're maximally dormant. Sometimes I wish I had a climate in which things really went to sleep for the winter, but that wouldn't be home.
