It’s spring again. It means the sun is shining, the wind is cool, and the temperatures are in the 50s. Perfect gardening weather.
So I’ve been assessing. And come to some decisions.
First, an enemy who feels great hatred towards me has obviously spread seeds of unknown origin everywhere. My “lawn” is now a weed patch. I’m not even sure it’s salvageable. But this is March, so I’m feeling positive and taking dominion over my gardening kingdom. I’ve proclaimed “Death to Weeds.” No doubt,this will last until the end of May. Then, I’ll wave the white flag and have a glass of iced tea.
Second, all my roses have to go. This breaks my heart. Our house is a 1920s cottage, so I planted a hedge of knockout roses around it. It was bliss for six years. On the seven year, stealth mites infected my roses with rose rosette virus. And there is no cure. My husband Cal removed one side of the rose bushes and we planted grape vines. Cal has another 12 or 13 bushes to dig out and then we’ll plant reblooming weigela. I’ve warned the weigela that it better bloom beautifully and resist all manner of pests.
Third, I really hate our massive magnolia tree. It’s huge and ancient. Two things that should make me like it. But it’s also a Southern magnolia, which means I spend a large portion of my gardening time cleaning up after it. In the spring, I have to clean up all the dead leaves—they’re thick and leathery, so they don’t mulch. In fact, I have no doubt they’d survive the Apocalypse (along with cockroaches). In summer, the tree drops its flowers—also huge, gooey, and non-mulchable. And in the fall, it drops massive prickly pods that have to be picked up by hand. When Luke and Ariel move to grad school this summer, I suspect that they’ll do the happy dance because they’ll no longer have to hear me say, “Slave labor time—we’re picking up pods.”
On the other hand, I sure there will be a lot of pods that need picking up over Thanksgiving holidays. It’ll be a pods-for-turkey kind of thing.
|Magnolia pod courtesy of Wikimedia Commons.|