Botanical Adventures of 2020

My favorite time of year is upon us, and my planting frenzy is finally slowing. The vegetable garden is all planted minus the pepperoncini plants, which are still gaining ground in their little peat pods, and the cantaloupes. My excitement is palpable as I watch the tiny carrot fronds bush out, as I swipe a finger around the earthbound end of a radish top and discover they've formed bulbs big enough to harvest a large mixing bowl full! I just cut a large bowl of greens to enjoy as well.

I made a garden map again this year to remember what I planted. I'm branching out a little and growing things I haven't attempted before. Butternut squash, cantaloupe, and pepperoncini are some of the new kids on the block. Also new is a long row of rainbow carrots! I hope to can a few jars of them as hot pickles (so delicious on sloppy joes and in relish trays), along with my regular spicy green bean pickles. (We're huge fans of pickles around here!) I also hope to finally dust off my pressure canner from the basement and learn how to do some serious canning; my Mom has offered to help so I don't blow up my kitchen. Until now I've been using a very amateur water-bath method to can the few jars of spicy beans I've done every year. Eli has agreed to build shelves in the basement to store my (hopeful) productivity.

My ambitions haven't ended there this year. I decided to till up a new spot of lawn adjacent to the original garden and moved the tomatoes and cucumbers there. And my herb bed can now boast rosemary and oregano, along with the customary cilantro, chives, mint, dill, and basil. The basil bed is overflowing with 12 plants this year. It's shaping up to be the year of pesto. 

Slowly but surely I'm filling in the bare areas of the yard with flowers and plants. When I close my eyes I can envision a yard that is an oasis, part park and part botanical garden...stone paths and a little pond with a hammock off to the side and thousands of varieties of flowers, and a bird watching garden and...by the time we put all that work into this place, are we really going to want to leave and start over on an acreage? My heart is in the peace and solitude of the country, but each year my heart grows deeper roots here.

The bed along the driveway was in a sad state when we first moved in, choked with weeds and rocks and struggling under too much shade. In the last four years all the plants have more than doubled in size, with some blooming that have never bloomed before. Despite the recent weed population explosion due to the rain and heat, it's still one of the prettiest parts of the yard.

Instead of rocks, I'm filling in bare areas of earth with creeping sedum and phlox. The new peonies I set out last year have all come up in the bed along the driveway. The brick walkway I added last year is flanked again by moss roses. The Asiatic lilies are spreading to my delight, and behind them is a little evergreen tree that I decided not to weed out. Instead, I'm using it in a little bonsai experiment. If I mess up and kill it I'm not out anything, but so far so good! 

Eli's mom gifted me Grandpa Benny's old baby bed, and I decided to use it as a support for the gladiolus this year. An unexpected bonus to putting it in this spot: the kids aren't forever running across my baby flowers! I planted zinnias in the rest of the bare earth with visions of finally having bouquet flowers most the summer. 

Four years ago when we left our rental house I was hesitant to leave behind all the flowers I had worked so hard to nurture there. I dug up some of the lilies of the valley that flanked the front porch and gave them to my Mom, where they flourished. This year she brought some back for me to plant. They have come full circle. There are certain plants that evoke special memories and make me feel at home. Petunias, particularly their aroma, take me to the shores of Lake Wissota where we vacationed every year when I was a child. Asiatic lilies and marigolds and zinnias and sunflowers are home flowers to me. And lilies of the valley have become home flowers because of the five years they scented every spring at our last home. They are also the flower of my husband's birth month, May. Driving by our old house just last week I noticed all the lilies of the valley are now mowed over, making me even more thankful these were saved.

Eli was the hero of the day and made me three flower boxes from old pallet wood last week. I filled them with red and white geraniums and wired two to the top porch railing. I placed the third in front of the living room bay window. 

I also started a new bed between a couple maple trees where the bird feeders are. The area is a mess to mow, a literal washboard of roots and holes and broken chunks of sidewalk jutting out of the grass, so the idea was born of practicality. I bought some elephant ear hostas to fill in the space and hope to find some "Happy Returns" daylilies to place in front of the birdbath, and when I have a bit more time the bed will become oval shaped and encircle the trees.

I could go on forever about my yard plans and plants, but I'll end with the progress I've made in clearing the underbrush, and then random shots from around the yard. A couple years ago I started cleaning up the weeds and saplings and sticks along the creek, which runs the entire length of our property. The long way. And our property spans the length of four normal-sized lots, so it has taken a lot of time. I finally tackled the last stretch of creek bank. 10 hours one day I lobbed and hauled and raked and hauled and mowed and pulled and almost died of a heat stroke, but it felt soooooo good to get that bank cleared! The next step will require Eli and his chainsaw to remove the large downed limbs and trees and clear the things that have fallen into the creek. I also made a clearing under the lilac bushes and planted some hostas I had thinned.

Once Upon a Summer Afternoon

"A Country Ditch Adventure" 

Back in July I loaded the boys into the van and went on a hunt for wildflowers...and a little bit of sanity. My flowerbed at home had grown scraggly and sparse, and life is a little easier to handle most days with a bouquet of fresh flowers to enjoy. And believe me, it was "one of those days". We made a stop at a fast food drive-thru for cheeseburgers before heading out of town.

We roamed gravel country roads until I spied thick patches of cheerful black-eyed Susans, fragrant pink milkweed, and large purple aster-like flowers all growing close together in a comparatively shallow part of the ditch. I parked on the side of the road and hopped out of the van with my snippers, giving the boys strict instructions to remain in the van. The baby was sleeping, and I desperately needed him to stay asleep.

I waded about five feet into the hip-high ditch grass and weeds before stopping in terror. Inches from my leg I recognized the lacy yellow flowers of the wild parsnip plant. These seemingly innocent wildflowers, resembling dill or even Queen Anne's Lace, are deceptively dangerous. They can cause a seriously painful, light-sensitive rash comparable to poison ivy.

I skirted my way around the patches of wild parsnip, and proceeded much more carefully to the harmless flowers.

I had a good bundle assembled in the crook of my arm when I noticed there were several dogs barking in the distance. I looked up over the ditch grass but couldn't see anything on the road. There was a farm place about a half mile down the road...the dogs there probably know better than to wander, or they're contained somehow, I thought. So I kept on snipping.

Eventually I realized the barking had stopped, at about the same time I figured I had enough flowers. I stood up straight and turned toward the road. My heart skipped a beat and I froze. Mere feet from my face was a massive bear-head staring at me. Oh no. St. Bernards aren't known for being aggressive. I sure hope this guy has been well loved! If this dog, who was as big as I was, wanted to kill me, he surely would have by now. Right? 

As I climbed out of the ditch I held my hand out to him and talked to him in the most soothing baby-dog voice I could muster. "Hiya puppy. You hungry?" His somber expression didn't waver but he began wagging his tail and let me scratch him under the chin. It was then that I was attacked on each of my other three sides that were left undefended in my focus on the big guy. There were dogs all over me  as I staggered onto the road and around the front of the van.

"PUPPIES!" was the unanimous yell from the van as I scrambled for the door handle. "Are we keeping them?" 

Oh for Pete's sake. I looked down the road to see a car racing toward us, gravel dust billowing out behind it. I was going to be responsible for some poor family losing an entire pack of pets. I threw the flowers onto my seat, slammed the door, and climbed back into the parsnip-infested ditch, calling the dogs as I went. The three little ones were just puppies, or very young. They seemed to be Jack Russells, and were super cute. I could have easily slipped one in the van and smuggled it home.... I stood there instead, petting them and letting them jump all over me while the car sped past, nearly suffocating us in a cloud of dust.

After the dust settled I made my way back to the van. The persistent pups would not be deterred and they tried to smuggle themselves into the van. I'm sure there was an irresistible aroma of grease emanating from inside. I grabbed a half-eaten cheeseburger from one of the boys and pitched it into the middle of the ditch. It worked, and even the St. Bernard bounded after the flying fast food.

I hopped into the van and took off, leaving the dogs staring in confusion at the back of the van. My fingers were gloved in dried St. Bernard slobber and hair, but I had my wildflowers...and rash-free legs.

When we got home I disinfected my hands and assembled a large bouquet of the hard-earned flowers on the dining room table. Perfection. Wildflowers fit my decor style perfectly!

I awoke the next morning sneezing, stuffed up, and feeling like my throat was made of sandpaper. Definitely not perfect! I removed the bouquet to the chair on the front porch, apparently for everyone else to enjoy.

I realized later that the bouquet's proximity to the fan in the living room window contributed to my enjoyment of the flowers anyway. As I sat in the cool breeze I took a deep breath and realized it had the spicy, sun-baked herbal flower scent of a country road. Memories of long walks taken in the twilight of summer washed over me. I was home again.

I've kept this bouquet long past it's prime, long after its beauty has faded, in the spot outside the window, simply because it has retained it's enchanting peppery smell. When I'm stressed I'll sit near it and breath deeply. With closed eyes I can imagine I'm back in the peace of the country, surrounded by the beauty of nature. I feel closer to God there. Though the window has been closed for the past couple days, I can't yet bring myself to discard the decaying bouquet.