the haphazard gardener

snippets from yesterday's time spent flitting about the terracotta gardens here at 29 Black St.

Lost.

Lost in that very good way. Your thoughts gone, disappeared ... gone somewhere else and who cares where. Your mind a vacant lot.

Lulled by the sound of chattering finches. I toiled and tilled, dragged and divided, weeded and lovingly transplanted things. A flox with Burgundy leaves and pink flowers from the front garden, hostas (I now have three colours - all green, chartreuse*, and a half and half cream & green variegated - my next acquisition is the blue green variety), oriental poppies (who always protest loudly at being moved, they crumple and dry up trying to convince you that they've died- but they will come back, I'm sure of it) and a tiny half dead (from lack of sun) peony. Yesterday was a day spent, almost entirely, in a kind of heavenly outdoor meditation.

Meanwhile Doug happily mowed and mowed and then schlepped wheelbarrows full of soil to fill large ruts left by a tractor last fall (another contractor horror story bringing the total now to 14) dans the giant fenced in dog area and home of the newly formed petite pond and red winged black bird habitat. I've decided to call him Doug here, after all that is his name and I have posted his photo many times. As much as he did remind me terribly of Sam Elliot when I first met him with his handsome silver hair and very tall moustache - he is not a cowboy, he's a Prince (at least most of the time). He's the handiest, smartest man I've ever known.

Watching me gardening is like watching me houseclean (me and houseclean now that's a misnomer -yikes). I'm a flit-ter. I flit from task to task leaving my tools like scattered bread crumbs behind me and throughout the yard. Mind you it (the yard that is) is so huge, so apparently daunting (to moi at times) overgrown, neglected and jungle-ish that there are so many things that need attention I get distracted very easily. Distracted and me are the best of pals. But the times when I actually did perch for a spell–specifically at a large stone edged bed in the back garden that I'm working on. A bed situated under a large, about to bloom, flowering crab, in a patch of dappled sunshine and with a choir of birds singing to me–I was in heaven. I do love this house (I always have) and I do love this giant yard, I love the breeze, the sun, the birds, the thick expanse of greens - in every shade and hue imaginable and boy oh boy I sure do love that Prince (oATG)**

apres les beauty shots (above) I have conceded and actually pulled back my camera angle considerably so that you might see some of what we're actually dealing with (below). For all you naysayers who think I tend toward exaggeration when I declare the jungle like and tangled personality of les terracotta gardens - feast your eyes on a few of our before shots. And especially for our friend Rachel & the team from NuT, we know she'll be tickled with these views.

* chartreuse Pamela is also a favourite colour of mine in the garden
** oATG - of All Things Good