true dirt

I remember when, like Rich, my garden was new and relatively bare and I spent all my time contemplating what was going to go in. Now, my garden is mature and there is little empty space. My time is spent editing, moving, tearing out, rearranging. The visions I had five years ago no longer excite me. My tastes have changed. I’ve had my fill of some plants, discovered new genera, given up on some impossibilities–most sages don’t get enough sun in my northeast-facing yard and daffodil bulbs rot in the clay (and the slugs eat the flowers if they do come up).So this year I dug up and discarded the weaklings, and consolidated a collection of blue-red roses in one plot. I also had to pull a lot of things that had been languishing in pots–lavenders, herbs, more roses. And this reaped the reward of big, empty terra cotta pots–nice because they are expensive and one can never have enough!
Everything got cut back within an inch of its life this winter–wisteria, California grape, all the big climbing roses. In just the past week I’ve felt the impending explosion of new leaf and bud. We have had an unusual heat wave too, eighty-degree temperatures and a dry onshore wind that has dried out the soil. Wisteria buds are suddenly 4 inches long. The roses are leafing out by the minute. And the weeds have amassed their armies–kikuyu grass, dandylion, wild oat, Bermuda grass, spurge, and filaree. I weeded all day Saturday until the tips of my fingers were numb.
Today the California lilac is still neon blue, neon orange California poppies have appeared, the wild buckwheat is greening up, and the English lavender is blooming. Bees are out, and the finches are stripping filament from the window screens for their nests. I guess it’s spring.