It was a freakish 68 degrees when I got home today, perfect weathers for a little planting. A box of leftover bulbs arrived in the mail from Elizabeth the other day along with a nice selection of seeds from Wildflower Farm. The ground certainly wasn't frozen anymore. The bulbs were planted. The wild flower seeds I want to do in pots.
This freakish warmth is coming ahead of a storm that is supposed to deliver snow tomorrow night. The new bulbs are ready. If there is a hole in the rain tomorrow I may even get my bed prepped for the poppy seeds. It would be good to get them sown and then covered in snow. The wind has already started.
I wandered down to the bottom of the garden where I have been planting a border to help mark the boundary. The miscanthus came from divisions of the grasses up by the scenic byway. The Dog Hobble, Leucothoe fontanesiana came from a significant thinning of shrubberies at a new clients this year. They weren't liking how everything was getting all jammed up as the shrubs in the garden matured.
I might have tripped and fallen today and a piece of the Saccharum ravennae fell out of the ground and followed me home. Two pieces were made from that. The other went in front of my red telephone pole.
Inside the border, this view from the bottom of the garden will remain pretty open. It will change of course between winter and the Lush of summer. I will be attempting to bring the height of the tall flower meadow down to the 4 to 6 foot range from its current 6 to 8 foot height by changing the species composition. That really means eliminating the two offenders.
The lower border undulates a bit too. You might say some of it is over the property line. You might say I am deliberately stealing more land for the garden. The chances of me getting a neighbor who might object are remote. The property below me has been for sale or trade for over 25 years. Many people have looked at it. When they find out how steep most of the 25 acre parcel is, you never see them again.
Only a real gardener would have any inkling of what I have done. The chances of me getting a real gardener for a neighbor are close to non-existent.
I even spent a couple bucks for a shrubbery I planted over the line.
The growing tapestry of texture and color that is being selected from the wild and planted new in the treeless utility easement will one day be seen by invitation only. You will have to enter the garden to see it. Driving by and gawking from the scenic byway above will come to an end.
I should live long enough to see that happen.