A Better Place
It’s gardening time again. Yesterday, I planted a patch of Inland Sea Oats a friend gifted me, and I trimmed the deadwood from the Turks Caps along the front porch. The latter was tedious work and previously handled by my late wife. I usually remonstrated her with the remark that no one trimmed deadwood in the forest. But being on my own now, I see the value of the clean lines and a fresh start. I’ll do the lantanas today.
As for the Turks Caps, I’m going to try and keep them trimmed low this year and see if I can get more of a bush. The Marie Pavia Rose is blooming. The latest rain came just in time, and it’s reveling in the spring sunlight coming its way, light that will be blocked soon enough when the big crape myrtle fully leafs out. Last year’s newly planted mealy sage are coming up strong, with lovely blooms and they look to be enjoying their new bed. The Iris’s are also getting ready to bloom, and I expect the spiderworts will quickly follow as will the Mist Flowers.
It’s a nice time of year. Resurrection. Plants shaking off their winter sleep for another go at growth. Me being able to enjoy their company. I don’t recall thinking much about plants when I was growing up, but they sure started talking to me when I became a homeowner. And we’ve continued our conversations ever since. Part of me would like to understand my infatuation, but another part thinks if I did, I might be killing the golden goose. So, I don’t look too hard for why. I just plant and water and take pleasure in the flowers and the shade and the feeling that somehow, I’ve made this part of the world a better place.