I spent most of the weekend in the garden.
I picked apples (but have not yet made applesauce) and poked around. I weeded. I planted a few things. I thought about this whole meadow idea. I’m realizing that our grassy area is so small that it really can’t be a meadow. I mean, it can be a meadow of short grasses with taller more interesting ones along the edges. But we do need a place to drag the chairs around.
Spending time out there — I also read Vanity Fair (the magazine) and talked to my sister on the phone — makes it easier to make sense of garden plans. I pulled a bunch of bricks out of the inexplicable rock heap under the apple tree. I cut back the ginger (which isn’t really ginger) and the dried gladiola leaves. I don’t even like gladiolas — would it be okay to just pull them up and pitch them? Or maybe just move them — they’re in a very stupid place.
We have plans for a path, too. That will change things, too.
The weather was perfect.
What I’ve got to do is to fill in the grass there behind the chairs, with carex pansa and carex divulsa for the truly shady parts. It should have been filled in long ago except I listened to my brother who told me not to buy as much sod as I needed. The fire circle has to get a bit bigger. And we have to make a path along the left edge of the picture, leading to the compost bin.
Behind where I’m standing I’m thinking about bees.
And taller grasses with interesting sexual parts (that is what the meadow man called them) mixed in with flowers — maybe gladiolas? — waving around the edges here and there.
What a pleasant weekend.
(Look! Here’s the idea!)