Gardening With Help

I have spent the past two mornings working along the west retaining wall.

This area was tilled early in the spring, we picked rocks, and I planted five roses purchased on sale at my favorite nursery.  Three are David Austin roses, two are a smaller landscape rose. Several clumps of dianthus were also hastily interred there and left to their own devises.

Beyond that, I've given very little attention to this tentative garden, snipping off a rose bud now and then,  Inevitably grass and weeds took over.

Heavy rain a week ago made it impossible to work in the gardens for several days.

The back porch is crowded with pots and trays of seedlings, many of which are ready to be put into the ground.

If I am outside before 8 in the morning, I can work for about 2 1/2 hours before the sun comes around the corner of the house.

I began Sunday morning at the end nearest the foundation, sinking my sturdy garden fork into the soil to loosen a patch of weeds, then creaking down onto my knees to pull the weeds by hand.

The soil on that side of the house is slightly better quality than at the front of the house, but still very stony. I piled weeds and grass in heaps, made little piles of stones along the wall, lumbering to my feet now and then to stretch and collect the stones in a big bucket.

Lugging the bucket across the lane to tip the contents at the edge of the ravine proved to be tiresome.

Trudging to the barn to collect the wheel barrow I had to shout over the noise Jim was making with the DA sander. 

"Wheelbarrow!" I bellowed. "Where is it?"

Jim thought for a moment, then flapped a hand in the direction of the veg garden.

With the wheel barrow alongside the retaining wall, I began flinging in armloads of wilting weeds and the rocks, small and large which I had scrabbled out of the soil.

The cats watched with interest.

Of course I had loaded the barrow beyond what I could manage and nearly went over on top of it when I tipped the mess out at the edge of the woods.

Monday being day 2 of intense labor, I had to convince my aching muscles that we could really do this.

I used a sturdy hand digger to smooth the soil disturbed in yesterday's weeding, extracted more rocks.

I set in the clary sage which had become unhappy in its big pot by the front door. 

I chose six of the largest foxglove plants, set them in place.

I dug behind the roses, a plan forming in my mind: a low fence following the angle of the retaining wall; that would define the space, make it more manageable.

The sun edged around the corner of the house and Jim appeared with it.

"Have you eaten yet?" he demanded.

[It seemed a redundant question!]

I replied in the negative, indicating cats, plants, piles of weeds and stones.

"I need to go into town for some vehicle paint; do you want to go?"

I heaved myself awkwardly to my feet, brushed at the soil clinging to my jeans.

"I'll go with you if you'll empty the wheelbarrow for me and give me time for a shower. We can get breakfast in town."

It was an arrangement that suited.  Jim trundled off to dump out the wheel barrow; the cats followed me inside.

A late breakfast at Huddle House, errands accomplished, home to the cool house.

This evening I went back outside, watered the plants on the porch, checked on the foxgloves in their garden spot.

I potted on ballon flowers, Jupiters beard, more foxgloves; I dragged pots and trays about, watered again.  I acknowledged that the frailest of the clematis cuttings from Spring Hill Nursery is quite dead in spite of my cosseting. 

Lavenders that were slow to germinate in April have had a spurt of growth. The tiny rosemary seedlings will soon require individual pots. 

I'm beyond tired tonight, muscles aching in every possible place--but--I have the makings of gardens!

Robert and Nellie are companionable, but their 'help' often means swatting at my hands, flinging themselves down on a plant, or attempting to use my freshly turned earth as a latrine..

Charlie watches from the edge of the porch.

Robert has parked himself.

Nellie is adept at scrambling up the side of the house to sit on the porch.

Until he climbed up there this morning I hadn't noticed the drips of floor paint.

Nellie has had enough of gardeing for one morning!