Gardening, Am I Right?

GARDENING, AM I RIGHT?

February 21:

Well, I guess this is the perfect time to start using this garden journal I was gifted from the kids at Christmas. Why, you ask? I know that we live in Canada, and it is the dead of winter, and there’s not much gardening going on right now. But I was reading the paper this morning, and the gardening guy—the one who does the Open Gardens Week—well, he said that this is the last year that he’s doing in. It’s been twenty-five years, and he figures that’s long enough. But—and this is important—he was encouraging all former participants to sign up one last time to make this one last garden tour the best. We’ve done it twice before, so I asked Andrew what he thought, and he agreed we should participate. Plus, it’s a great way to whip the garden back into shape. I’m so excited!

February 22:

I’ve been thinking about what needs to be done—besides the weeding and trimming. It shouldn’t be too much of an ordeal, right? Andrew’s amazing at doing all the heavy lifting, and I can do all the gardening things. The big thing is re-building the raised beds. I don’t know what I was thinking, lining the sides with plastic. I thought that if we grew veggies, they wouldn’t come in contact with the chemicals used in the pressure treated wood. In theory, it was a good idea. In reality, not so much—the wood rotted because the water became trapped between the wood and the plastic liner. And for the last couple of years, Andrew has been McGiver-ing the things to stay together. It’s time to replace them, so why not this year?

They are also built on a pretty significant slope, so I think we should flatten it out, and make it two levels. I asked Andrew if it could be done and after he finished rolling his eyes, he agreed. He thinks it should take maybe a week, max. What a guy!

March 23:

I just got back from an invasive species seminar at the library. My back yard is lousy with invasive species—periwinkle, day lilies, English ivy, lily of the valley. Oy!

I understand the problem with these plants, but I bought them all before they were considered invasive. Now what am I going to do? I don’t want all the people to think that I don’t know, or care. I do, but man, that’s a big job getting rid of all those plants. And I’d have to replace so many plants. I don’t think I could get rid of it all even if I could get out there into the frozen tundra, and start right now!

Damn!

April 24:

Well it’s been super crappy out. We can’t even get out and start tidying up the yard because there’s a foot of snow on the ground! Jeez! I love Canadian spring.

May 7:

This is stupid! How can I work outside if it’s raining and the temperature is hovering around zero. IT’S MAY!!!!!

May 8:

Shit, shit, shit, shit! We have a leak in the basement! There was a torrential downpour this morning that lasted about four hours, and when I went downstairs we had a swimming pool in the basement! Not kidding! There was water everywhere! We’d had a much smaller leak about a year ago, but we thought we’d fixed it. But apparently not. Damn, damn, damn. We don’t have time to do the basement! There are gardens to prepare!

May 9:

Okay, so Andrew figured out the problem. When we bought the house a million years ago, there was a wood deck. About twenty years ago, we replaced it—instead of wood, we built a stone patio—same height, a bit bigger, with a pergola for the wisteria. Amazing, right? But, what we didn’t realize was that we’d covered up the weeping holes for the brick facade on the house. What we need to do NOW is deconstruct the patio, and drop it three inches. Do you know how much work that’s going to be????? And how long it’s going to take? We don’t have time! We have Open Gardens in one month, thirteen days! Argh! Clock’s a-ticking!

May 15:

Okay, garden pruning and weeding is going well. Not so well with the patio. It’s going to take forever to get done. Now I’m torn—patio or raised beds? Both, I’d say, but let’s be realistic. But I’m not doing the work—it’s all Andrew. And I’m pretty sure he regrets agreeing to participate in Open Gardens.

Also, question: Why can’t I keep my mouth shut? Answer: I’m not sure, but I should learn.

I was looking at the portion of the patio that Andrew had just fixed. He portion that had taken over a week to complete.

“Those bricks aren’t flat.’

He looked at me with cold, dead eyes, his face expressionless.

“See, over there?” I said, pointing. “It’s lower in the middle.. That’ll puddle. You’ve got to fix it.”

“I know,” was all he said, and walked away. I’m pretty sure I saw steam coming from his ears.

May 21:

I can’t believe it! I was working at the back of the yard, and I sat down for a break, and I looked at the thirty foot maple we have at the side of the yard, and gasped. About fifteen years ago there was a really bad ice storm, and one of the main limbs broke off. Andrew fixed it—cleaned up the break, and put in two long steel rods to hold the tree together because the trunk had started to split. As well. A success. Until now. Originally, a three limbed, balanced maple tree. Then after the ice storm, a two limbed maple tree. But it was fine, living it’s best maple tree life. Fast forward to today, and the much, much larger tree is starting to list towards the house. So much so that I called Andrew over, and we both stood out there staring at the tree. He agreed, ot was listing. And he was smiling.

“That’s gotta come down,” he said, trying not to jump with glee and clap his hands.

I sighed. I loved that tree. It was a volunteer—I never planted it, it just grew where the maple key landed. But I kept it.

“Look,” said Andrew, pointing towards the fence, “the roots have heaved the fence up at least two feet. It’s gotta go! The neighbours are going to want to build a new fence if it keeps growing.”

I knew it was true. “Fine,” I said. “It has to go.” My heart was sad.

Now, Andrew knows how much reluctant I am to cut down any tree … or bush, or plant, or shrub. It hurts my heart. He knows that! The least he could do was stop smiling about the fact that he’d get to bring the Big Fella out to play—his 24 inch Husqvarna chainsaw. He was almost rubbing his hands together in anticipation of turning my beloved tree into firewood.

“Not before Open Gardens,” I said.

“But it won’t take long,” he said, not looking at me, but imagining the job ahead. “I’ll have it done in no time.”

I squinted my eyes at him. “Really?” I said. “And how are you going to drop those twenty-five foot limbs without destroying my garden—the garden I just finished cleaning up, and that you just dug all the holes so I could plant all those new hostas? The ones that we paid a lot of money for?”

“I can do it, no problem,” he said, crossing his arms confidently and looking from me back to the tree.

I crossed my arms, but in a more aggressive stance. “Can you promise me that you won’t destroy the garden?”

He looked back at me. “Probably,” he said. I stared hard. “Maybe,” he said sounding less sure of himself.” I leaned in. “I think maybe we should wait until after open gardens.”

“Good man,” I said, returning to my yard work.

He turned to walk away. “I hope we don’t have a wind storm between now and the beginning of July,” he said over his shoulder.

May 22:

I LOVE Facebook Marketplace. Do you know how many people are selling plants that they’ve divided in their gardens? About a billion, that’s how many! And there are a lot of different choices. And I wanted them all! I contacted a bunch of people and we were driving around all day, buying plants. It was pelting rain, so there wasn’t much we could do outside, anyways. Andrew did want to know if I actually knew where all the plants were going to go. I said yes, but in reality, I didn’t know. I just knew that I needed—okay wanted—all the plants. I explained to Andrew that if we bought these plants I wouldn’t be asking him to divide our own over-achieving perennials, so less work for him. That made him more amenable. But, I may have lied. We were going to have to divide some of our plants, regardless. And by we, I, of course, mean Andrew.

May 31:

I can’t believe it! Our neighbour Todd wants us to trim one of our trees that is shading his swimming pool. Andrew almost salivated at the idea.

“Not until after the beginning of July,” I told Todd before Andrew could agree, and run and get the ladder and the Husky (that’s what he calls it).

Andrew was disappointed, but I cheered him up by reminding him that we have less than a month before people are going to be showing up to look at our gardens, and at this point in time we have neither a lowered patio nor flattened the raised garden bed. I’m pretty sure he harrumphed before he stomped back to our house and the tedious job of moving gravel and laying bricks.

June 2:

What’s the matter with me? I know we have very little time before Open Gardens, but what do I do? Just tidy up and trim? Nooooooo. Not me. Over the last three days I’ve started four new garden beds. Andrew just looked at me, shaking his head, and went back to laying brick. I tried to explain that they were in problem areas, and by creating these beds, there is less lawn to cut. He just continued to what he was doing, leaving me to be the creative one. That is until I need him to make my visions a reality.

June 5:

I can’t believe how much work it is getting these beds ready. All I’ve been doing all day is schlepping rocks around. Uphill, downhill, from one end of the yard to the other. Bloody things weight a ton! And I dropped a tree stump on my ankle. Ouch! Hurts like hell. And to add insult to injury, my gardening stool slipped off the flagstone, and I tumbled down the hill backwards. Good thing the big-ass metal tree support pole was there to stop me, or I might have rolled right over the hydrangea I just planted. Now I’ve got a huge bruise on my ankle, a wicked cut on my arm, and my muscles are sore! Who said gardening is for the weak of heart?

June 6:

Oh, oh, oh! Yesss! Canadian Tire has reduced all their garden plants by fifty percent. Andrew and I hit the store early this morning. Score! So many cool shrubs!

And, of course, “Gracie, do you have room for these plants? Are we going to have to buy a bigger lot.”

“Har, har, Andrew. Har, har.”

I’m pretty sure we’ll have room. As soon as I finish creating those new beds.

June 8:

Okay, for some unknown reason I decided to attack the day lilies. They were growing way out of their beds, so I figured I could tame them into submission. Who was I kidding? They are insidious, they are tenacious, and they are everywhere they should not be. Have you ever tried to dig out a day lily? Their roots go down feet into the soil. And they’ve grown in places that no plant should be able to grow. And they suck. I spent the entire day removing day lilies from a three by six foot garden bed. The whole day! And there are still roots in the soil.

Day lilies are the cockroaches of the flower world. If there is nuclear annihilation the only two things will survive—day lilies and cockroaches. I hate them.

June 10:

Andrew just informed me that he is not going to be able to finish the patio. It’s half done. Oh well. We’ll just have to make sure that no one falls. Maybe I should check how much our home liability insurance will cover. You know, just in case. But now he can help me, so yay! I can use his man-strength to dig up the rest of the day lilies. And cart around milk crates of river rock. And move around buckets of dirt from one place to another. And dig holes for the fifty-six plants we still have to put into the ground.

June 15:

Okay, so I hired my twelve-year old great-nephew, Jake, to work in the garden today. He was supposed to be here from ten in the morning until four in the afternoon. I’d forgotten what ‘tweens are like. He was all excited about the job—that’s not true, he was excited about getting paid. It was his first “for hire” gig. I’d forgotten the minuscule attention span. The wandering off. The “Phew, that’s hard work. I’m just going to take a little break. Do you have anything to eat?” I spent almost as much time feeding and watering him, as I did explaining, and re-explaining, and explaining for the third time that where I wanted him to put the dirt. It all goes in the same place! Sheesh!

“Yes, Jake. You have to move all the dirt.”

“But there’s an awful lot of it.”

“I know, Jake. That’s why I hired you—so Andrew and I wouldn’t have to move it.”

“Can I do something else?”

“Nope.”

And, surprise, surprise, after lunch, he was too tired to do anything more, and he had his mom come and get him.

But, in the end, he did get the dirt moved. Well, most of it. And it was almost worth hiring him. Almost.

June 24:

Argh! Tomorrow’s the day. I haven’t got everything done. Why did I start all those beds? Why did I insist that we flatten out the raised beds? And where the hell did I think I was going to put all those plants. I must be insane. I still have so much to do! Why did I think we could do this? Doomed to fail!!!!!

June 25:

What a great day! Andrew and I were able to finish up most of what needed to be done before we opened up at four o’clock. And it looked pretty good, if I do say so myself. I don’t know what I was worried about!