‘Tis the season

It is now High Gardening Season here in Jenworld. For the next six-ish weeks, I will spend countless hours outside, trying to hoe the Jenworld Botanical Gardens into some semblance of civility and order.

During this time, my hands will be constantly chapped and rough, in spite of lubricating my epidermis with vats of Badger Balm. My nails will chip and break and I’ll have to scrub extra hard to get the dirt out from underneath. I’ll probably develop blisters and slash myself on the climbing rose at least twice in five minutes before I remember that roses have THORNS. I have several pairs of gardening gloves, with which I could protect my non-manicure, but I will invariably forget.

During High Gardening Season, my thoughts will be obsessed with plants. About what combinations of flowers, vines, and leaves would look best in the pots by the front and back doors. About how many azaleas I can buy before I drain the girls’ college fund to the point where they’ll have to take out Pell Grants. About how many trips I can take to the garden shop before Pete asks me to stop before I landscape us into financial ruin and then we can no longer afford the Jenworld part of the Jenworld Botanical Gardens.

During High Gardening Season, the mini van will have a constant smell of fresh mulch about it, as well as spills of dirt and mulch in the back. It’s not a pick up truck, but it masquerades as one during this time of the year.

During High Gardening Season, I will spend much of my free time outside. On the weekends, this will be no problem, as that’s easily 28 hours of daylight over the course of Saturday and Sunday, if one counts dawn and dusk as part of daylight hours. I’ve never gardened by flashlight, but there’s a first time for everything. There’s just so much to do during the season and I must finish my work before the heat of June makes further planting unwise.

During the week, it’s a bit harder for me to find time to garden, as I have to work in order to afford this habit of mine. Once the girls get home from school, I’m usually done with work and can putter around outside. “Putter” is a bit of an understatement as what will happen is that I’ll tell the girls, “I’m going to go check on the herbs, in case you need to find me.” Thirty minutes later, someone will wander outside to find that I’ve checked on the basil, but then have moved on to transplant a mature butterfly bush and am now sweating and filthy.

I know, I know, each and every one of you is saying, “But Jen, we all know you don’t transplant mature butterfly bushes, as they can’t handle the shock of the move.” Such is the power and joy of High Gardening Season that I believe I am all-powerful and can do ANYTHING in the garden. I am the MASTER OF MY DOMAIN — bwa ha ha ha ha ha ha!

In the past two days, I’ve made two trips to the garden shop. Here are the efforts of my Thursday excursion:

That’s just 30 minutes at one shop. I hadn’t bargained on getting so much — silly me — and had taken the car, not the van, so there was some creative maneuvering to fit everything. The flats of impatiens went into the trunk and everything else went into the back seat. I still had room in the front seat, which is pretty impressive. I once took the van to a garden shop, filled the back and the second row entirely and then had to seatbelt a large shrub into the seat next to me. The shrub and I conversed all the way home and I named him Norman.

During my Thursday buying binge, I bought only plants for the pots by the front and side doors, annuals for a couple of shady spots, and one truly amazing planter that I will have to take a photo of for you, because it’s just so great. I’m not taking the photo now because it’s 3 a.m. and too dark outside for photo taking.

[Awake at 3 a.m. Jen? Yes, well that's another story for another time.]

Yesterday, for various reasons, Pete and I decided that the girls would have a Mental Health Day from school. The junior gardeners and I went to another gardening shop, where we picked up several azaleas to fill in one relatively new flower garden that has some bare spots just begging for shrubs. We also stocked up on some of our sun loving annuals. There was also some negotiating on the girls’ parts to buy other things, including a small koi pond and several fountains. They made a compelling case for adding water features to the Jenworld Botanical Gardens, but for various reasons, I had to say no. I did promise that we would consider a fountain next year, but that our focus on Friday was on sun loving annuals.

What will probably save us from financial ruin this year is that my across-the-street neighbor, a wonderful retired lady who is a dear friend of mine and also my gardening partner in crime, is convalescing from surgery and won’t be able to hit the garden shops this spring with her usual ferocity and determination. We’ve had some epic excursions, Barbara and I, and often slink home in guilt, hoping our husbands won’t notice how much money we spent on daylillies alone. And you should see her yard. Barbara has THEME GARDENS — the Zen garden, various butterfly gardens, the shade loving garden, the hillside garden, the herb garden, the vegetable garden, the rose garden … the list goes on and on. Neighbors walk from many blocks away to see what Barbara is up to that day and what is blooming in Barbara Park. (Yes, we all call it that.) By comparison, my own not-too-shabby yard looks like an abandoned lot.

Today, Elegant and I will be transplanting flowers from her personal garden to Graceful’s and then planting beans in Elegant’s space. I’ll also be planting everything purchased on my two trips to the garden shop, while Elegant will take on watering duties, which means that I’ll have to tell her repeatedly to stop watering herself/me/the driveway/the sky and to aim the water back on the plants. Graceful will probably help with putting in annuals along the borders, as that’s a task that she enjoys. Soothing and contemplative and with immediate results. They are budding gardeners, those two girls of mine.

When my labors are complete, I plan to sit on my screened porch and admire the view that I created.