Growing Things, Take Two

Well, looks who's back after an unintended blogging hiatus!

(That would be me.)

I've been enjoying my kids, warmer temperatures, the ending of another academic year, and all kinds of exciting little day-to-day things. And who has time to blog when life passes by so quickly?

After such a delay in posts, I know I should post pictures of my kids, since distant relatives are usually clamoring for regular updates. I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to disappoint you, beloved distant relatives, at least for today. Because, you see, today I would like to feature...

My plants.

As if you care.

If you know me or have read here for any amount of time, then you've probably picked up on my love (nay, my zeal) for all plant life. Well, nearly all plant life. I can't stand dogwood (aka, "crotch") trees, and I have no patience for tulips or other bulb plants. But nearly everything else perennial fills me with great delight and joy, and I am truly in my element this time of year. The Professor has patiently watched the children for the last few Saturdays so that I could do the hard labor of cleaning out beds, cutting back growth, and the like. And I lovelovelove it.

Seriously, if you handed me a few thousand dollars and said it could only be used for landscaping, I would have it spent and put together in like a week.

Since I don't have thousands of dollars at my fingertips, a lot of the work right now involves simply cleaning out the overgrown beds at the back of our house and around our detached garage. Mrs. Dorothy (bless her heart) let things get pretty bad, and even after living here for two years, I still find things to wrestle with.

Here is the back of our home, post flower bed clean-up:

Actually, I don't know when the back of our home was last used for actual flower beds, if ever. I wish I would have gotten a before shot. It was truly horrendous. And coming from someone who delights in wedding and shoveling and all that, then you know it was bad. Here is one word of advice: if you ever consider planting mint in the ground, PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD DO NOT DO IT. It is a weed, and a weed of the worst variety. It sends multiple strong runners deep into the ground (I was digging 12-16 inches to get ours out), and if left to itself for a few seasons, will quickly take over your yard. It's awful stuff. It was throwing a huge party in that back bed until I bit the bullet and hacked away at it for two afternoons straight. Even then I resorted to weed killer on the most resistant plants.

Sad, sad mint.

And of course we have our garden, already producing lettuces and onions:

I know it's not pretty (as my husband assured me it would be--I think we have different definitions of pretty), but it's better than last year.

At the corner of our home, rounding toward the north side of our house, I found a small pad of concrete (covered in weeds). I unearthed the concrete, only to discover that it had been poured to fill in some sort of critter hole.

Now I understand how persistent and annoying and even dangerous some hole-digging critters may be. But concrete? In the flower bed? Really? Just another example of the half-a**ery that our home's previous owners delighted in.

When you pass the critter hole, a nice sight awaits you: happy hostas lining the north side of our home, thriving after they were transplanted there last spring:

Every one of them survived and is now flourishing, and I just need to say it again: I love hostas.

When you pass the hostas (which have been weeded and mulched, I need to add) and start toward the front landscaping, you'll notice this delightful little guy:

He is a tiny, fast-growing, spring flowering plum tree that I bought (with my own money! Just like a grown-up!) a few weeks ago. We have been wanting an ornamental (read: one that won't get too big) tree with reddish leaves in that spot for two years, and I finally made it happen. He is just a little guy, and as you can see, we have to rope him down so he won't run off.

He's just an adolescent. He's very impressionable, and our neighbor's redbud is from kind of a rough family.

The rest of my hostas in the front are doing great, and the ones I didn't divide up last year look like actual adults.

Future landscaping goals for the front include a flagstone border (I am sick of the grass creeping into my beds)...and that's it! We'd also like to adhere flagstone to our old, weathered (and covered in peeling paint) concrete patio and rip out the wrought iron railing and replace it with stone or wood railing. Our home also has an awning above the front door, which is common in our neighborhood, and we'd like to replace that with a wooden portico. All in good time.

I've limited my annuals this year to a few containers, including my favorite geraniums and some diamond frost:

Do you recognize those planters? Why, they belong to the outdoor Christmas trees featured in this garage sale post! I hated seeing them sitting, all dejected and useless, in the basement, so I put them to work. They do a good job, I think.

Finally! I cleaned out one of the sides of our garage (which houses a rose bush on either end) and planted gladiolus bulbs. About 60 bulbs, if I'm not mistaken. Gladiolus are very popular here, and they thrive in our climate and our soil, so I'm excited to grow my own and have lots of fresh cut flowers. Here is the bed with sticks representing the rows of bulbs I planted:

And! The most exciting news! Some of the earliest-planted bulbs have started to send up shoots!

Blurry, I know, but still very exciting.

FINALLY, finally, I am leaving you, dear readers (are you still there?) with a little puzzle. A guessing game, if you will. What could these flags possibly mean for us?

Why on earth would we tolerate lots of crazy colored flags and spray paint on our weed-infested lawn?

Not that the reason is terribly exciting. Well, it is for me. But just humor me, please.