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| Flax |
There are still black flies, which are voracious; there are
mosquitos, which are voracious; there are ticks, which are voracious. My legs
and arms and neck are covered with itchy, swollen mosquito and black fly bites;
every day I spend in the garden, I pick at least a handful of ticks off myself.
It’s raining, again; the cats are kind of permanently damp,
and sometimes look like they fell into the pond. The lettuce and onions and
leeks and shallots and garlic and broccoli are loving this weather; and with
the help of cloches, the tomato plants have grown some, corn has sprouted,
squashes are beginning to look like real plants. The beans all finally got
planted last weekend, and most are up. I need to fill in holes in the beet and
carrot bed, but not all the seeds washed away, so some are growing. The basil
and savory and cucumbers seem to be enjoying their experiment, being planted in
pots near the south on the south side this year. The potatoes are big and lush
and gorgeous.
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| Catnip, Allium, Johnny-Jump-Ups |
And in spite of all the strange weather, there are some
really gorgeous flowers. Lilacs and the first flush of dandelions have gone by,
azaleas are done, but rhododendrons are in full bloom, day lilies and iris in
front of the house are in full glory, and there are patches of lilac-colored
Robin’s plaintain, purple harebell, yarrow, pink clover, daisies, little tiny
pink somethings I don’t know what they are and can’t find in my Spring
Wildflowers book, white violets, Indian’s paintbrush; and Mom has a big patch
of hoary alyssum, which is quite lovely.
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| Robin's Plantain and Harebells |
The birds are singing happily every day, though I haven’t noticed
any making use of my birdhouses yet this spring-almost-summer. Buzzy Boy has
chased me in from the garden several times when I’ve been out too late
according to his Rules for Humans. I’ve seen bees and butterflies working
amongst the flowers, and there’s nothing prettier than a big yellow butterfly
perched on a purple chive blossom having a drink.
Catmandude’s new catnip plants seem to be doing well. I’ve
shown him where two are and he’s had a good chew on them, but he hasn’t
discovered the third yet. He still hasn’t forgiven me for yanking out his great
big plant, but the asparagus crowns I planted in that bed are doing well. Peas
and fava beans are up and climbing; bee balm and marjoram and sage are about to
bloom. The rhubarb plant is gigantic, and the sorrel has already gone to seed.
Still waiting to see if the perennial seeds I planted will sprout – the annuals
(cosmos, calendula, amaranth, love lies bleeding, salvia) are up, the
self-seeding California poppies and lunaria – ok, that’s a biennial - are
getting lush, and my clematis – yes, that’s a perennial -was beautiful. An iris
I hauled out of one spot last year, which hadn’t grown and never bloomed, has
an absolutely exquisite bloom on it this year. And the peony bed is about to
break into bloom, and the bleeding hearts are bleeding beautifully, as are some
perennials I planted last year and the year before that have lovely blue
flowers and pink flowers on them, and I have no idea now what they’re called. I
wonder if that’s why I struggle with perennials.
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| Iris and Lilies; yes, needing weeding... |
I don’t do particularly well with perennial flower plants.
Sometimes they work, sometimes they don’t, sometimes I accidentally weed them
out in the spring, mistaking them for grass. I’m never really sure. For years I’ve
been trying to get Oriental poppies to bloom – I had a great bed of them when
we lived in Maine: just dug up a patch of grass, threw in some seed, a few
weeks later – voila! But here I can’t get a single seed to sprout. So last year
I broke down and bought three very expensive potted poppies, which were
settling in nicely, and then the damned chipmunks tunneled under them and
chewed off their roots and killed them.
I
used to like chipmunks.
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| Perennial border pinks |
Maybe I should try planting a slice of poppy seed cake and
see what happens.
My new peach trees and cherry bush, and six of the nine new
raspberries, all look pretty good. The final living limb of the old peach
succumbed to frost this spring, which was very disappointing. It was covered
with leaf and flower buds that were just on the edge of opening, and then,
overnight, dried up and gone. Not a one opened. We sadly cut the limb off; but
this winter, we’ll think we’re pretty nifty, maybe the only folks in northern
New England burning peach wood in their woodstove. The garden looks very odd
without the peach tree blocking my view across it.
I dug the solar lights out of the cellar the other day and
put the big, color-changing ball back out in the garden, lined up the
color-changing and plain white mason jar lights on the wart railings, and when
I look out at night, my French-Canadian heart just thrills to the gaudy show.
Earlier this week there was a moment – and I was there to see it – when the
full moon hung directly over my color-changing ball. It was totally satisfying.
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| Annuals on the wart; Petunias and something orange |
We haven’t erected the tent-on-the-wart yet – it’s been too
windy, too rainy, too too too. Too bad –
it would be a break for Catman, who really wants to be outside in his chair
this time of year, even when it’s raining, so he can survey his domain and have
an excellent nap in the fresh air; and it would be great for me, so I could
de-tick after being in the garden without entertaining the neighbors too
thoroughly, and also not get chewed up by mosquitoes as I strip down and –
well, you know. Full clothes and nekkid body searches, vigorous hair brushing,
muddy hand and foot washing. (Hi Glen! Hi Darlene! Thanks for the fireworks
show last weekend, we enjoyed it! Better viewing than what I’ve been giving you
as I come in from the garden!)
Almost summer. And yet…
For the blog, 20 June
2019
All photos Deb
Marshall
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| Very Happy Lettuce; and parsley |
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