Yesterday I went to my parents' house to spruce up the gardens in the front yard. I really wanted to take advantage of the beautiful weekend, but the little yard here at my and J's apartment hardly seems worth it. We' re renting. It's a swamp. Everything has to be planted in containers to ward off slugs and deer and permanence. So I spent the day in Mom's flower beds instead.
10 to 12 years ago, Mom landscaped the front yard and planted a magnolia tree on a little hill by the driveway. We lined it with limestone and granite that we found on a geology field trip to Mt Baker, and planted ground cover and herbs. It was beautiful. Over the last 10 years, it's gotten totally unruly.
I spent about four hours sawing and pruning and ripping and dragging, knowing there was soil under that overgrown mess just waiting for some TLC. Mom kept the yard clear of debris while I perfected my scorched-earth method of gardening. Once the hill was cleared, I transplated a bunch of perrenials that were growing in other flower beds (unkempt and at risk of being choked out by dandelions and ivy). Dad wrote us a blank check and we went to the feed and seed store to get new plants and beauty bark. What a difference.
Memorial Day Weekend, 2009