Gardening Is Not Easily Relinquished!

Monday morning mist.

Clematis Candida made a brave showing in spite of the buds lost to successive April frosts.

I saved seeds from last season's crop, sowed them indoors in late winter.  None germinated. 

There are some new vines climbing up the trellis; I wonder if seeds dropped and germinated there or if the new growth came from the roots. 

The blossoms have peaked, but I find this plant appealing at all stages.

Clematis Duchess of Edinburgh has opened her first blossoms today.

Roserie de L'Hay, a favorite old rugosa.  I planted one of this variety at our first Kentucky property.  By the third season it was sending runners into the lawn [as rugosas will!]  I potted up several and brought them here to the Amish farm;  This one is thriving robustly.  The scent is delightful.

Irises in bud remind me of beautiful batik fabrics.  Fortunately, iris seem to thrive in spite of heavy soil and persistent weeds. [Mugwort!  Bah!]

These iris are in the rough strip near the bend in the lane.  I used it as a holding area for plants carried here in the fall of our move.  The soil is shallow and gravely--it didn't prove to be a workable plot.

Miniature iris from Gina's home.  I moved a clump of these to the perennial strip, tucking them against the retaining timber at the edge nearest the driveway.  I intend to relocate more of them when blooming has finished.

The yellow ones are lovely--although my photo isn't well defined.

Looking toward the lower farm buildings on my way back to our house.

I am calling this scene a creative mess--obviously I need a greenhouse for potting up seedlings and dealing with container plantings.

I was slower than usual leaving my bed this morning.  By way of excuse, Teasel-cat was curled comfortably on my feet and I was loath to disturb her.

Jim and neighbor/renter Fred, planned to help a friend with an on-going building project at the other end of the county. 

I decided this was a good time for me to drive to Russell Springs for shopping.

I've been feeling displeased with some micro-fiber sheets I recently put on the bed, and remembering that K-Mart in Wyoming carried a good selection of bedding, I hoped that the local K-Mart would have what I wanted.

The local store is apparently fazing out bedding--the only offerings were quite dreadful.

[Whatever has  happened to smooth, crisp, cotton percale sheets?]

Kroger supermarket is located in the same plaza, so I quickly bought fresh salad makings, stowed them in the car, and headed a few miles down the highway to a garden center I have visited 

in the past.

I've convinced myself that I need more shrub roses--a row of them along the brick path, well mulched, should provide non labor-intensive bloom.

I was disheartened to find that the garden center no longer stocked perennials or roses!

I did find a thriving prostrate rosemary [I've been looking for one since my lovely big plant froze on a cold night several years ago.]

I bought a 3-pack of bronze-leaved begonias, a mini sunflower in a pot, and a lemon verbena.

At home I quickly put away groceries, dished out the cats' tea, put potatoes in the oven to bake.

The afternoon was spent contentedly potting on heirloom tomato seedlings, giving separate pots to the small foxglove plants, mixing soil [perlite to loosen a baggged potting mix] arranging basil and parsley in planters, watering.

I intended clearing away my mess before Jim arrived home, but was still happily pottering when I heard the roar of the Dodge diesel turning up the lane. 

The truck paused to let Fred out at the lower house, then ground slowly along the gravel lane.

The cats who had been 'helping' me--Willis, Charlie, Sally--scattered as Jim brought the truck along-side the porch.

Jim handed me a carrier bag with flowers visible at the top.  I snatched off the bag and exclaimed, 

" A hydrangea!  I've been coveting one!"

"I don't know what it is," replied Jim.  "I just thought it looked pretty."

I left my 'mess' on the porch to follow him into the house, set out food, hear about his day.

I placed the hydrangea on the table, gloating over it, shooing away the cats who wanted to investigate.  Information on the tag indicates that this is a dwarf shrub that would appreciate wintering indoors near a cool window.  I shall have to read more on its care.

After supper I took apples to the goats; Gina sent some that had withered, sliced into eighths they are a treat for the goats. 

The two youngest of the milk goats were in the milking parlor and happy to have sliced apples added to their ration of grain. 

The goats munched,  the barn cats gathered in anticipation of those first squirts of milk aimed into their dish.

It was growing dark as I walked slowly home; Willis met me at the bend of the lane. [I seldom notice that he is escorting me, but he is always waiting when I return.]

Reluctant to stay indoors, I carried out the angel wing begonias and the Swedish ivy which have over-wintered in the east-facing basement room. They will spend the summer on the lower porch.

Working in the glow of the front porch light I swept away scattered potting soil, lined up trays of seedlings, poked plastic picnic knives into pots of herbs and flowers to protect the small plants  from the pawings of curious cats.

Inside at last--and realizing, not for the first time, that when I garden, housework suffers; only the most basic necessities have been done today: bed-making, bathrooms cleaned, dishes washed and put away.

Common sense [and aging knees!] dictate that the scale of my gardening endeavors needs to be modified--and I'm working that out. 

Still, a summer without flowering plants, without a veg plot, however limited, would be no kind of summer.  With Jim tilling and hoeing, with me fussing over transplants, weather obliging--there will be gardens!