Gardening progresses at Tyn Y Maes

At the end of Candide, Voltaire advises his readers simply to cultivate their own gardens. Aside from this practical  advice, not a lot in that novella has remained in my memory over the years since university. Voltaire, also a gardener apparently, would be happy: over the last few weeks, I have been digging, hoeing, raking, and planting to a fare-thee-well.  I am turning part of our erstwhile hay field into a garden. 

I have approached the task in stages. I do about two hours a day and then take a day off. Today is an off-day due to the rain. I am thankful I have this excuse because a few of my muscles are crying for respite. On the plus side (sorry, Voltaire, I am engaging in optimism here), my leg muscles are growing much stronger. Building up muscle mass in preparation for my upcoming hip operation is one of my goals for over the summer.  Gardening  is so much more useful than doing strengthening exercises, as the latter are boring and don’t have any supplementary benefits.

However, gardening not only adds muscle mass to my arms and legs but, I hope, beauty to our surroundings. It’s also great to be in the fresh air and to admire one’s handiwork afterwards. It occurred to me that in the story about how the Creator looked upon his creation and pronounced it good, he may have been commenting  not only on Eden but on how great he felt having made it. It does feel good!

The first thing I had to do was to plant the perennials we brought with us. They were beginning to out-grow the car. 

By the time we left Mt Carmel, the hostas had grown about eight inches!

They had to withstand not only the shock of being planted in red soil, having grown up in black, but also a significant plunge in temperature — even to a frost one night. All is well with them now although some still appear a bit traumatized:

The hostas look a bit battle-weary. The sedum is fine, and the brown things are last year's.

Next was planting what we fondly call the Friendly Giant’s burial mound — a long, rectangular, raised bed just outside the windows along the back of the cottage (or front, if you consider the view as the front). If you are curious about the Friendly Giant, check out this link:  . http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WV2P6P4p6Hg&feature=kp

This is what it looked like last summer after the lawn was seeded: 

We are not sure what made the indentations. We suspect skunks looking for grubs.

Anyhow, back to the present, thankfully we hesitated just long enough before planting the tomatoes and missed the frosty night.

Tomatoes are to the left and strawberries to the right, but you probably saw that already.

One of the  rhubarb roots did not fare so well and got a bit touched by the frost; however, I think it will survive. It really is hard to kill rhubarb, as my many friends with a surplus can attest.

Only one leaf survived on this one.

Its mate is fine.

I have on-going misgivings about the asparagus. I did not soak the roots before planting nor did I dig a hump in the trench over which to droop the roots. I firmly believe that plants intend to grow unless you really do your best to kill them, so I wait in hope.

Some but not all the roots have sprigs growing. It can take up to three weeks from planting.

The strawberries have suffered only one fatality, which I can’t account for. Maybe the seedling just didn't like it here and died.

I ordered way too many seeds from Vesey’s and planted them  in my next round of garden work.  Most are for perennials – both flowers and herbs – and with any luck and lots of rain, sunshine and weeding, I will not have to plant them again.

The perennial bed at the other side of the cottage - with lilac bush.

Equally fascinating, with only parsley and a peony in evidence, is the herb garden.

The planters on the deck are now pregnant with nasturtiums and lettuces and up out of the way of marauding wild life. We hope.

Hmmmmm...

Greg and I  planted the sugar maple tree yesterday, as it was rainy and cool then too. We put it about 40 feet from the septic system. When it reaches its full height in about 25 years, it should be far enough away that no one, least of all the two of us, will need to worry about its roots mangling the septic bed.

If it can outgrow the dandelions, the sugar maple will be fine.

Yesterday I spent an hour digging up the bed by the road. The weeds have gotten away from me, and I shall have to admit defeat and hire someone with a rototiller. I want to put pumpkins and squash out there as well as some annuals that like dry sunny conditions. The hose won’t reach that far – nor will I and the watering can!

There remains only a dawning of sunflowers to plant as well as, more prosaically, a couple of rows of beans  in front  of the forsythia.  

The forsythia will add a blast of yellow next spring. 

Mind you, I got the fall bulb catalogue in the mail yesterday, and I am only a “place order” away from even more gardening fun.