The past couple of days I have been cleaning out my patio garden. I have pulled tons of weeds and wild strawberry plants, dug up hoards of daffodil and grape hyacinth bulbs and feel as though I may never have the job finished. (Where is "Mistress Mary" when I need her? I hear she had quite the garden.) My son, Dave, stopped this morning and called my weeding job "a miracle". He even left me a few of his garden tools to help with the job and then looked longingly at the piles of bulbs laying out on newspapers. He is a lover of plants and the outdoors and has his own "Groundscaping" business. Of course I gave him some.
I fear I am not the gardener that my son is, that my great grandfathers were, nor can I compete with my own dad who always had a weedless vegetable garden. In spite of that, somehow there is a little bit of dirt running through my veins and I can't keep from hoping that I can someday have magnificent gardens of my own. My favorite perennials are the daisy type of flowers, Shasta, Gloriosa, Black Eyed Susans, and Purple Cone Flowers. Mix them up with some Bee Balm and a few others and maybe I can have the kind of garden that both the bees and the butterflies will love, not to mention the hummingbirds.
Friday's Hunt "G."
2 hours ago