It is amazing how much gets done when I am not the only human caring for the Park. For that matter, I'm not even doing the lion's share of the work, and I'm still wearing myself out this week, working outside on the garden beds and container plantings. I put in a solid six hours of work, broken by a quick dinner break, and I am wiped out. It's barely after nine pm as I start to write, and the man has just now joined me in post-hot-shower jammies and bathrobe. I've been similarly attired for two hours, while he couldn't leave well enough alone, and he stayed out until full dark to finish his last project. (He put together a complex puzzle: moving the poured concrete cobbles from the side yard to the back, increasing our "patio" and connecting it with the freshly expanded fire pit brick base. It looks fantastic in the dark, but I can't compete with that kind of energy and stamina, and I would have walked away from it long before it was done.)
Our primary focus today was weeding and mulching the beds on the side of the house. The previous two springs, I worked like a fiend to remove each and every weed from these beds, and last year I dumped cedar mulch on them in a vain attempt to slow down the regrowth. By the time spider season hit, I was overrun anyway. I'm trying again this year, but since I have someone to split chores with, maybe now I will be able to keep up on pulling out new growth. He has already promised to move all spiders down to the thicket and beyond. That one project might be all the difference in the world.
Ever since we built the privacy fence that cut off the neighbors' view of the big hydrangea bushes and ferns, we have tried to compensate by planting hanging baskets on the fence and keeping the bed on the outside of the fence full of beautiful perennials. We put in three little hydrangeas there a couple years ago, and they're starting to act like they are well established, finally. The two spireas with lime green leaves and frilly white flowers in the spring have flourished there, after years of languishing by the shady thicket. Ferns have volunteered to grow on that side of the fence, and I'm not certain, but I think the agapanthus I planted last year might have survived. I love those big purple firework-shaped flowers. I have learned not to expect the baskets on the fence to come back, no matter whether I plant annuals or perennials. Everything always dies before the end of the season, and this year, I made my life easier and went with the hardiest of basics. It's all dianthus and snapdragons. Honestly, it will probably be the best year for them of all. It's nearly impossible to kill those two flowers.
I tried to get pictures of Zoe bouncing around, chasing lizards with us on the side of the house. Of course every time I hit the shutter button for an animated picture, she stood perfectly still. I had to rely on still photos of the things she was chasing, of lizards and worms. (I was so glad I was wearing leather gloves today -- for all that I love getting into the dirt, I get a little grossed out by touching worms or earwigs or spiders. Not good for a dedicated gardener to be so squeamish.)
I foresee an early bed tonight, so I can get up and do it all over again. There is still so much to do. And for the first time in months, despite being sore and tired, I actually feel good enough to do it. Hooray!
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