You know when you see those little groups of men working on the road, where only one appears to be working and the rest are standing around? Though I had never before considered the possibility, I now think it is entirely possible that the one who is working is the guy who believes that only he can use the tool correctly. Everyone else is standing there trying to be supportive.
This is how the garden construction was at our house yesterday.
Things are perking up in the front garden, and we got the back garden planted. This circumstance caused me to think about the contrast between the two, which is in many ways a picture of the contrast between my husband and me.
Or one of them. We balance one another in a number of ways.
The front garden is intended to look wild and natural and sort of as though it were a particularly lavish little woodland glade that ended up in front of my house. #2 son and I planted it a couple of years ago, and I add stuff every year.
My husband never criticizes this garden. He waters it sometimes, and helps me weed it, and tolerates it.
There are columbines here, and snapdragons, and salvia, and pinks, and violets, and the little yellow bell things the name of which I have forgotten.
I like them all squished in there together.
When the perennials need a little help, I put in a flat of impatiens, which will spread out soon and cover all the exposed soil.
I like the crowded effect, the enormous variety of textures and shades of greens, the rambunctiousness of the flowers in summertime.
The centaurea — bachelors buttons or raggedy sailors might be what you call them — are really too tall for the front, but I let them bloom there for a while. I planted them in the back years ago, but they apparently wanted to be in front (where there might be a few rays of sun), and I have a few volunteers out there every year. They get cut for the house once the rest of the flowers are blooming profusely.
Everything spills out onto the path and looks modestly riotous.
I would do this in the back, too — and I suppose to a limited extent I do, since I have planted roses and herbs in just such an untidy confusion between the house and the vegetable garden. I also encourage the hedge of brambles and honeysuckle on the other side. And I have planted daylilies and zinnias and irises here and there, too. These flowers might not really have all ended up out there together on their own, but by now they have a fine jungly look which I like to imagine looks natural.
My husband does not want his garden to look natural. There is plenty of nature around. His garden is a work of art.
We built the edges (or rather, he did, while the rest of us watched admiringly), dug in plenty of humus and composted manure, and planted the vegetables in nice rows and blocks. The one plant by itself at the front is basil, because there is only one. He tried to let us say where to put things and to be open to suggestions and all that, but we can tell it is artificial. When I suggested putting in some beans, he said “Beans?!” with the tone of voice Chanthaboune would immediately recognize as calling for the rejoinder, “Someone’s been making sock monkeys?!” I should have planted the beans earlier if I wanted beans. However, we will be adding cucumbers. A space has been left for them.
The whole thing has been thoroughly watered in, and we should have plenty of nice vegetables all summer. Much more and better vegetables than if I had been in charge of the planting.
I have to confess that even while my husband was raking this lovely rectangle into Zen smoothness, I was thinking about messing it up. I could plant trailing nasturtiums around the edges. I may or may not resist the temptation to do so.
Tell him you need the nasturtiums to help keep the critters away. Some marigolds would look nice, too.
I plant as you do. I put in a tomato plant, and then sprinkle herb seeds all around it. They grow up together, are companion plants, help to keep the weeds out, AND taste good together. But I let the boys plant the greens in rows this year. It looks silly to me. What a waste of good garden space.
No, sadly, not the ballet. I went ot the ballet once in Nashville . . . the orhcestra was fun.
I think the reasoning behind all the commotion is that (some) people came to/like Xanga BECAUSE they didn’t enforce their rules in the first place, giving people the opportunity to post offensive stuff to their heart’s desire. Although I admit that probably isn’t good enough reason to justify the outrage I’ve seen some people express on their sites about it, since Xanga’s previous lack of enforcement wasn’t a FEATURE of the service that they’ve taken away from the users but rather an in-progress component of it that they never developed until now, most likely due to user complaints and, like some of the outcry has claimed, because they have “sold out” (ah, commercialism at its best). I’ve posted on this long ago. I think the commotion is a bit over-exaggerated, but this time I can’t help but feel a tinge of sympathy for them. After all, great writers like Drakonskyr, as offensive as he can be, will be affected by this and the availability of his writing and the writing of others like him will be limited to the Xanga public.
Anyway, you could always post about a different state, not necessarily the one you currently live in. For example, the state you were born in or perhaps the state you grew up in or the state “where your heart is” or any variation of those themes. Didn’t you say you were from California? Keep it copasetic.
Nasturtiums are tasty, too! I think I scared the neighbors yesterday. After peering closely at the Catawba grapevine in the backyard, I ran around yelling, “We got grapes! We got GRAAAAAPES!” People were dragging their small children indoors, but I was too excited to care. Your husband isn’t ex-military by any chance, is he? Such nice neat lines… 🙂
garden riot! I love a rambling flower garden! Thanks for the inspiration!
Suggestion: Explain to your husband that nasturtium blossoms are edible, and are excellent in salads.