I'm sure an expert horticulturalist could explain to me why the weeds this year have been so pernicious. Much more of a problem than any other year of my entire gardening life. It can't just be that I didn't keep up with it all summer long. I'm often lackadaisical about it. A spot pull in the most prominent places, nothing more than that. But this year, the weeds won. Or at least they did until I began the laborious task last week of digging them out of all the flower fields, inch by inch, up and down, working my way around the roots of established perennials, and to the front, to the back, to the side, filling buckets past the heaping point, digging, bending, pausing for breath, then digging some more.
I dont know that I will finish the work this Fall. I have another gift of a beautiful day today (it was supposed to rain. It did not rain.), but we will surely get the predicted wet weather, and after that I'm away, and after that will come the cold spell, arriving just as all my spring bulbs are scheduled to arrive. (As always, I ambitiously ordered a heap of bulbs. I'm never sorry, come spring time, and always a bit overwhelmed come October -- the time of planting.)
There is still the problem of weeds that sprouted in the beds by the sheep shed. I cannot get a handle on those fields. Had I the money, I'd probably hire some consultant to tell me what can be done in a space that has shade, old raspberry runners, and creeping Charlie like you wouldn't believe, in addition to the violets and all the rest of the usual suspects. I've planted spring bluebells. I've planted some blackeyed Susans. I've planted phloxes, salvias, irises, purple coneflowers, lilies, hostas, calaminthas, anemones, clematis vines and sedum creepers. Nothing works. By the end of the summer, the field is completely covered by creeping Charlie and a whole army of invasive weeds. In the other beds, the flowers still show their strength. In the sheep shed field -- not so much. If I dont weed those beds this year then I will feel terribly remorseful come spring. But the job there is so big that I'm just not sure I can get to it.
Such is the work at the farmette.
I do of course also feed the animals.
And just before noon, I break for breakfast with Ed.
We talk about how things swallow us whole and how I knew the garden would do this to me, and that I have no regrets -- apart from the enormity of the job, I think I've done well (enough) here. We both admit that looking forward (for example -- to what will grow here) is much more in our nature than looking back. [Just last week, a friend of Ed's told him he had a photo of their co-op group from college and post college days and that he'd give Ed a copy of it. Ed said no thanks. That may seem strange to you -- what's a photo after all, especially since Ed liked his co-op life. But I get it. Looking at that photo wont bring him as much joy as figuring out how to solve a tricky design problem in one of his machining projects.]
In the early afternoon, I'm so worn out with the weeding that I hesitate to push us out on a bike ride. Still, the development coffee shop is doing a soft open today and I want to check it out/support it. So we bike over.
And it is lovely: spacious, airy, with good background music and a friendly vibe. And one very comfy chair.
There's not much food yet and I'm terribly disappointed that Madison Sourdough turned them down with their baked goods, but still, I like the place. I tell Ed that when he goes sailing (if he goes sailing), I will spend every morning there, watching people come and go.
After a cup of coffee (and some free snacks!), we get back on our bikes. It's funny that biking on Alpine Blue is soothing rather than tiring. The work in the flower fields doesn't do much for my smart watch rings, but it totally depletes me. A bike ride, especially on the flat-ish paths we choose for today, restores me.
In the evening the young family comes for dinner.
And later, much later, as I tidy up the hurricane that comes with child-play, I think about how kids are like meadows -- forever changing and experimenting with new strategies to gain a foothold in this complicated world. (Meadows never merely repeat the same display of flowers and grasses. One year you'll see an abundance of poppies, the next year it's all about sweet william. And so on...) As a parent or grandparent, you think you've figured out a dynamic, only to have it changed the next month, or week, or even day. In other words -- they force you to stay engaged and watchful. And to never assume! Well, except that they need you to be their best friend and protector. Always.
with love...
