MIND YOUR BUSINESS

I would have never thought a gardening class would begin with a presentation on spreadsheets. The old adage, “if it’s worth doing, it’s worth measuring” obviously covers more ground than I realized.

Jim is one of our instructors, one of the longest serving Master Gardener volunteers in our community, author of the “You Can Dig It” column in the local paper, and a retired chemical engineer; the latter of which may help explain things as we go along. He kicks off every class with a tip-of-the-day. Sometimes it’s a clever product that makes our gardening chores ever more efficient, a book that may prove invaluable to our future gardening careers, or a quick lesson on drip irrigation. I can’t think of a tip-of-the-day that I haven’t taken to heart, but the spreadsheets were surprising, maybe a little frightening.

TIP-OF-THE-DAY

The TubTrug was a tip-of-the-day because it’s lightweight and durable, but flexible enough that you can grab it by both handles with one hand; which means you can fill it with flowers, vegetables, weeds, or whatever, and still have one hand free to carry a tool. It comes in various sizes and colors.

The Home Gardener’s Problem Solver was written by ORTHO some time ago so the chemical recommendations are out of date, but the front is filled with pictures of common problems and a brief analysis to help diagnose almost any plant issue.

A quick internet search on ‘gardening spreadsheets’ reveals a gazillion different varieties. There’s spreadsheets for managing the budget for buying seeds, companion planting references, crop rotation tracking, formulas one might use to determine the size of your garden based on the number of people eating the vegetables, and spreadsheets to keep track of the seeds you’ve already bought. It’s the same kinds of things you might track if gardening is your business.

One of Jim’s spreadsheets identifies every gardening chore from pruning, weeding, and cutting down the dahlias to unhooking hoses, disconnecting headers, and moving the drip irrigation valves inside before winter. Another includes a full calendar year of fertilizing reminders, another lists all the plants that didn’t survive his garden, and yet another tracks daily rainfall totals. Jim also uses a spreadsheet to track dilutions for the major chemical products complete with a conversion rate based on the specific buckets and bottles he mixes them in. There’s more, but you get the gist.

courtesy: Jim Janke

Most gardening spreadsheets help organize rather than measure, but there’s plenty of things to measure in the garden, and sometimes the plants will do the measuring for us.

Seventeen years ago, the visibility in the area where I live was less than a mile. Ozone levels have improved significantly since that time, but it prompted the installation of ozone gardens in schools all around the area to educate our children about the effects of air quality and to teach them how to monitor air pollutants using native plants.

Ozone-sensitive plants reflect ozone damage on their leaves with tiny, evenly spaced purple to black dots, known as stippling. Eventually, the leaves will yellow, die and fall off. In this part of Western North Carolina, the cut-leaf coneflower (Rudbeckia laciniata), black-eyed Susan (Ridibeckia hirta), yellow crown beard (Verbesina occidentals) and common milkweed (Asciepias syriaca) are just a few of the native plants that are good indicator species for ozone gardens.


Ozone leaf damage occurs on the top of the leaf while the lower leaf is clear of symptoms. Photo Credit: handstheland.org

The National Park Service has compiled a list of plant species found within National Park boundaries that are known to have a negative response to high ozone exposure. You may find native plants for your area on this list, or you can even sign up to establish your garden as an official Ozone Garden at handsontheland.org.

If you are a spreadsheet kind of gardener – well, you probably already have your own spreadsheets. But if you’ve just entered my new mind-blowing world, maybe you’ll find some inspiration within the examples below. Happy Gardening. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Pinterest
Seed Organization for the Gardener With Too Many Seeds; courtesy northwest edible life
Courtesy: Walking In Chicago, Leah Ray
Courtesy: Jim Janke
Courtesy: Jim Janke

A community of volunteers measure precipitation across the United States, Canada, Puerto Rico, the U.S. Virgin Islands, and the Bahamas every day. CoCoRaHS (pronounced KO-ko-rozz) is a grassroots volunteer network of backyard weather observers of all ages and backgrounds working together to measure and map precipitation (rain, hail and snow) in their local communities. Visit the CoCoRaHS website for more info or to volunteer.

Plant Lessons: a guide for humanity

If a flower contains both male and female reproductive parts, as some flowers do, it is said to be a perfect flower. Flowers that lack one of the reproductive structures, either the stamens or pistils, are known as imperfect flowers. An imperfect flower is also therefore, by definition, incomplete.

Some plants have just one flower; these are called solitary flowers. Others produce clusters of flowers. Scientists first thought flowers bloomed based on their exposure to light. Later they discovered that it’s not the light, but the uninterrupted darkness that triggers flowering – giving us the classification of short day, long day, or day-neutral plants. Day-neutral plants are indifferent to uninterrupted darkness. But some plants, petunias for example, don’t really fit any category because they’ll bloom in all different combinations of day lengths.

A lecture on botany in week two of Master Gardening school queued up a lecture the following week on diseases. Inga, our local expert on the topic, warned that most students wonder how plants survive at all after learning of all the diseases to which they may succumb. I was among them.

Inga made the point early on in her lecture that to identify a plant problem, you must first know what a healthy plant looks like. Some plant’s normal characteristics, or habits at certain stages of growth, can be similar to the symptoms of a disease. Diseases and symptoms of disease are plentiful nonetheless, including leaf spots, fruit rots, blights, fungi, too much moisture, not enough moisture, bacteria, viruses, the dreaded nematodes (tiny roundworms), and even mistletoe. On this note, Inga reminded us that although some diseases cause symptoms and the plant may not look perfect, not all diseases kill. You have to decide what you’re willing to tolerate in terms of appearance.

The lecture on disease was a natural segue to insects. Sam, who has his master’s degree in entomology, and proud owner of an insect collection, had more first-hand knowledge of bugs than I ever imagined possible. Of course, his first point was to remind us that just as soil is not called dirt, real gardeners know that insects are not bugs – although there are a few exceptions, naturally.

For every pound of human on earth, I have now learned there are approximately 300 pounds of insects. They thrive in more environments than any other group of animals, and they are among the oldest animals on earth. They live in the air, in the water, on top of the soil, and in the soil. There’s an estimated 100,000 different insect species in North America alone. By some estimates there are 10 quintillion (10,000,000,000,000,000,000) individual insects on earth at any given time; a typical backyard contains 1,000 or more different species. I wish I didn’t know this.

Even so, the vast majority are harmless or even beneficial; less than 1% are considered pests. That sounds encouraging unless the 1,000 in your backyard are all part of that 1%. That’s highly unlikely in reality since pests have natural enemies, and the beneficial species help control at least some of the worst pests. In fact, insects and weeds are part of a natural ecosystem.

If you plant a garden or establish a grassy lawn, the natural process begins to re-establish a balance of native and non-native plants. The weed that takes hold in the lawn is the first stage in a sequence of events that, if allowed to continue, could eventually result in a forest. Cultivated plants are not nearly as competitive as our native plants, weeds and insects; cultivated plants survive only with the constant help and intervention of the gardener.

The wheel bug is the largest of the 150 or so species of assassin bugs, a predatory insect of great benefit to gardeners. (Photo by William Johnson)

Master Gardeners are taught that it’s not possible or even desireable to rid the garden of all pests. The best way to control the over-population of pests is to keep your plants healthy and reduce plant stress. Healthy plants tend to resist infestations by pests while plants with low vigor actually attract pests.

Remember, however, in a true ecosystem there is no such thing as pests. Only humans consider something a pest when it occurs where they are not wanted.

We’re taught to visit our gardens regularly to observe what’s going on. Know what to look for and intervene early with a strategy that’s economical, physically feasible, effective, and the least toxic.

If all this is true of plants, maybe it’s also true of humans.

Sometimes we prefer a solitary life while others prefer clusters of friends. There are morning people, night owls, and workaholics. Some folks don’t really fit any category because they’ll bloom no matter what their environment. We’re all vulnerable to disease from time to time, although much less so if we are healthy and stress-free. And an uninterrupted, good night’s sleep goes a long way to help us rejuvenate and produce our best blooms.

Sometimes our gardens seem to have been invaded by pests that threaten the balance of our environment. But what we call “pests” are actually part of a natural system at work. An ecosystem has no pests. Only humans consider something a pest when it occurs where they are not wanted.

Some of us are more competitive while others will require the constant help and intervention of a gardener. No human is perfect, and therefore, by definition, incomplete. The famous line, you complete me, comes to mind.

History suggests the best way to maintain a healthy ecosystem is to check in with each other regularly to observe what’s going on. Know what to look for and intervene early with a strategy that’s economical, physically feasible, effective, and the least toxic to each other – and our planet.

Test your knowledge:
Plants are categorized by their growth habits. These include:
A. Shrubs, trees, and ground covers;
B. Evergreen and herbaceous;
C. Annuals, biennials and perennials;
D. Monocots and dicots.
True or False: Fungicides kill fungi.
Which of the statements below is false?
A. It’s not possible (or even desirable) to rid gardens of all pests.
B. When you see a plant problem, the first thing to do is spray it according to the label
instructions.
C. Prevention is the first tool in pest management.
D. Misuse of pesticides can result in the pest evolving a resistance to that particular chemical.
E. All of the above statements are true.
True or False: The vast majority (>99%) of insects are considered harmless or beneficial.
Answer Key:
C. Annuals, biennials and perennials;
False: Fungicides slow down or prevent fungus attack; they do not kill the fungus directly.
B. When you see a plant problem, the first thing to do is spray it according to the label instructions. False: the first step is to identify the plant.
True

Who’s a Master Gardener?

A class was advertised in the community newspaper that my husband just happened to read in December. He thought I should sign up. The last time he thought I should sign up for something I spent a year jumping off the top of telephone poles, climbing the Alpine Tower, hiking through the mountains, and paddling the cold whitewaters of the Nantahala Gorge. I no longer take these “you should…” suggestions lightly.

I sent off my request to join the class nonetheless, and was immediately met with a questionnaire: “What are your top three areas of gardening interest? (anything I can get to grow?), Other Horticultural Training you’ve received? (None) Gardening groups in which you are currently active? Gardening magazines you currently receive?” (None, and none) I must have managed a suitable answer to every question after all, and the next email announced, “Welcome to the Extension Master Gardener Program!” There were 20 future EMG volunteers enrolled. The first day of class was last Tuesday.

Everyone was invited to stand up and introduce themselves when class began. One man had been gardening for more than 30 years. A lady discovered dahlias last year, grew them in her garden, and won three first-place prizes at the County Fair! Everyone spoke of the challenges of gardening in the mucky clay that dominates our area versus the sandy or loamy soils of their previous gardens in other parts of the country. I finally volunteered to speak, and all I could think to say in the presence of these experienced gardeners is that I just really enjoy playing in the dirt. I could have mentioned that my husband and I had planted over 300 plants and 40 trees this past summer (we planted one more tree a couple of weeks ago), or that I live next door to one of the most special native gardens in the city. But my mind went blank, and no one seemed to mind anyway.

Most of our first class was spent discussing the bigger part of the EMG volunteer’s commitment, which is surprisingly not the 50 some odd hours of training we’ll complete between now and April, but the 40 hours of volunteer service we’re obliged to perform before the end of December. There’s community gardens to help out with and a booth to man at the County Fair, newsletters to write, questions to answer from the general public, wreath making workshops at Christmas, garden tours, and a plant sale. There’s even an opportunity to participate in a workday at the Corneille Bryan Native Garden next door to my house. It will hardly feel like work. But first, we’ll learn everything there is to know about gardening.

The North Carolina Extension Gardener Handbook is 728 pages covering twenty-one different topics from soil and composting to propagation, diagnostics and wildlife. When the instructor introduced our first topic he emphasized that “Dirt is what you bring inside on the bottom of your shoes. Soil is what’s in the garden.” And away we go.

Our first homework assignment involved selecting two sections of our own gardens to submit to soil sampling. We would dig seven or eight holes from each site, take a sampling of soil from each hole, mix it all together in a plastic container, and transfer the combined soil to a small box that would be shipped off to Raleigh for analysis. The most challenging part of the exercise, our instructor warned, was to give each section of your garden a name you could remember. My husband came up with the idea of right field, left field, center field and home plate, and so I collected samples from right field and home plate. Apparently, we’ll be reviewing the soil content of our gardens on a Tuesday at some point in the future.

Botany is the subject of next week’s class, and I have made some fascinating discoveries in my assigned reading. For example, some flowers have landing platforms that match the body parts of the animals that perform the pollination, the bitterness in cucumbers and lettuce is caused by high temperatures, and it’s actually the stems on the dark side of a plant that elongate making it appear the plant is growing toward the light.

Plants are amazing, and I’ll be learning just how amazing every Tuesday now through April. Maybe they won’t mind if I go back to playing in the dirt when class ends.

The Garden Review 2019

Some of my favorite sights of the year.

The first sign of spring arrives early (in February) at a house by the lake. (All pictures are my own except where noted.)

The Corneille Bryan Native Garden next door to our cottage has some of the most unusual native plants. This photo is of the Yellow Sessile Trillium in full bloom this April.

In 2018, a pair of bald eagles built a nest in our neighborhood and took up residence. This year they had babies. It’s not unusual to see the eagles all around the lake, but it took a powerful long-distance lens to capture video of the babies. (Photo and video by local photographer/videographer Joseph Thomas of Carolina Photo Art)

April 10: the dogwood by the lake is spectacular.

A view from the Blue Ridge Parkway (April).

The first cygnets of the year were born in May.

The Lake Junaluska landscaping department won a third-place finish in the national 2019 Pamela Crawford Side Planting Photo Contest. The Pamela Crawford planter has holes throughout the liner to allow for unusual and innovative designs. Nineteen of these planters were used in the landscaping design for the first time this year. (Photo: Melissa Tinsley-Lake Junaluska, NC)

More babies. . .

The native garden is dense with flowers in July.

We added more than 300 plants and a garden shed to our own newly excavated garden space behind the house; including 25 trees, dozens of shrubs, ornamental grasses, perennial flowers, succulents and ground cover. The windmill was added in August to commemorate our 20th wedding anniversary.

Our wildflower experiment was generally successful. They grew over 6 feet tall, gave us oodles of cut flowers, and bloomed well into October. However, they literally took over the back corner of the garden, and were so thick they obstructed our view of the other plants. It took me all day to cut back the dead stems, and four trips – holding all the dead stems I could possibly muster – to haul them to the street. We’re re-thinking our strategy for next year.

Lavender would rather die than be transplanted, but the one I moved to the front of the house last year has defied all odds.

This one scraggly lavender plant produced more lavender than I could have imagined. Scary as it now sounds, there’s 26 new lavender plants behind the house that could be ready to harvest next summer.

Butterflies frequented the planters on the front porch all summer.

An unusual flower blooms by the Memorial Chapel.

The cygnets at one or two months old.

Four more cygnets were born in July. This photo was taken by Jim Pearson, the cygnet caretaker.

The statue in the foreground was erected years ago in memory of the first swan of our neighborhood, Malcolm.

An eagle attempts to prey on small water fowl, but they cluster together and flap their wings to scare him off. After four or five tries, the eagle finally gives up. There’s something to be said about the little guys’ strategy.

There were stunning vistas from late September through November as fall showed its best colors.

September 29:

October 2nd:

October 25:

October 31st:

November 2nd:

By December 11th, we had our second light snow of the season.

Five days before Christmas we found three Japanese Cedar trees significantly discounted at our local garden shop. We had to move six other plants to position them where we needed them most, but I’m beginning to believe there’s never too much evergreen.

I made a small donation to the Arbor Foundation this summer, and they sent 10 flowering trees as a thank you gift. This brings the total number of trees we’ve planted this year to 38 – even though 10 of them could take the rest of our life to look like trees. After this last day of planting, on the eve of winter solstice, my gardening year is a wrap.

From my garden to yours, Merry Christmas! And the very best New Year!

Main Street, Waynesville N.C.; A Luke Sutton Photo

My Garden Propagation Project

There’s lots of ways to gather plants for a landscaping project, and I’ve been willing to try any and all methods to fill the barren land behind my house. In fact, there’s been little time this summer for anything except gathering plants.

The excavation part of our construction project from earlier this year left us with a set of stone steps, and mounds of red clay covered in mulch. I’m familiar with inheriting a fully landscaped yard – even if I might spend the next few years tweaking, moving and fine-tuning what was already there. Reversing the total eradication of all plant life is a horse of a different color altogether.

My goal has been to cover as much ground as possible, literally and figuratively speaking. My ultimate garden would be one that requires very little mulching, no cutting grass or weed-whacking, and includes spots of shade all around. By mid-summer I had finally thought to start a Pinterest board with the names of every plant we’ve added to our garden to help me keep track of things. I’ve registered 116 different species so far, although we’ve rarely added just one plant of any variety.

My favorite method of propagation starts with a visit to the discounted rack of plants at the nearby garden center. There’s something uniquely rewarding about reviving a distressed plant that’s been left to your mercy – not to mention it’s also easier on the wallet. And you never know what variety of plant you might find on the discount rack.

Our savings have become fairly substantial in the process of discount-rack shopping. One day we had finished shopping when the nice lady at the register advised us of an additional 50% off all discount-rack plants. We went shopping again and made off with a total $362 savings.

We’ve accumulated plants by transplanting from near and far as well. When our friend Irene divided the Iris in her garden earlier this spring, my husband brought a bucket full home in his little convertible. It was quite the sight.

Last year a neighbor opened his garden to anyone that was willing to divide and dig day lilies. Next year these same day lilies will be ready to divide and transplant again into the vast unknown of our back yard – where I’ll be quite happy for them to multiply till their heart’s content.

A photo of the front taken on September 9, 2018 after planting the day lilies from our neighbor’s garden.

This photo was taken June 16, 2019 when the lilies were in full bloom.

The next two photos were taken earlier today. Some of the day lilies are still blooming, but the Montauk Daisy steals the show. Last year I cut a stem from the more mature daisy on the right and started a new plant on the left. If anything more than a leaf falls off a plant anywhere, I’ll toss it in water and see if it roots. Some experiments are more successful than others.

My husband found several platters of sedum on the discount rack one day, and we planted them everywhere.

It was a fluke decision to put one of the platters into the St. Francis statue’s arms in the shady side garden, and now there’s sedum starters that have taken hold all around just underneath. In some cases, propagation could take the rest of my life. It’s still fun.

Each time I’ve added a new plant to my Pinterest board, I’ve researched its particulars. It’s been fascinating, and sometimes stunning.

I fell in love with the Evening Primrose and their delicate early-morning blooms, but there was an urgent warning regarding how invasive this plant can become if left to propagate at will. And I didn’t think much about burying the leftover Creeping Jenny from a summer arrangement last year to see what would happen. It’s the best ground cover ever, although we could possibly drown in a sea of Jenny by this time next year.

There’s been a few stomach turning lessons along the way as well, such as the day I discovered ‘dog vomit fungus’ and the ‘stink horn’ mushroom. Both thrive in mulch, both are simply horrible, and you can’t possibly make this stuff up. But there’s also been great pleasure in finding the perfect spot for a tree I’ve never heard of before, or finding plants that would survive where an underground spring keeps the ground surprisingly wet. Pictures do not do our hard work justice, but some day this cottage garden will be the garden of our dreams.

I found Mr. Boggs sitting at the top of the hill in the back garden and snapped his picture – it looks like he’s wearing the Canna Lily in the background as a hat. My experimental wildflower garden is just beyond the Canna Lily and an even more experimental rain garden is just below the ridge. Bentley is at the far right sitting in front of a small white azalea that has just decided to bloom. This is home. And this is where I’ve happily spent most of my summer days.

A Garden is Born

The excavation phase of our project is finally over leaving us with a blank slate in terms of gardening, and I have never been more intimidated. One of the songs in my running library is Emmit Fenn’s, “Lost in Space.” It’s the perfect description of my garden.

The area under siege is behind the fence in the photo below. As lovely as it may have appeared, this land gradually climbs to a road up above where most of the trees were dead or dying – in other words, a major threat to the roof of our house. Our plan was to create enough level ground to accommodate a one-room addition to our house while also cleaning things up a bit.

 

We cleared the trees out last December, although the excavator didn’t pull the stumps out until the first day of April. Then they spent the next two weeks moving dirt. Everyone that stopped by to examine our progress remarked on how wonderful the dirt was. Unfortunately, it was that perfect top soil that got hauled away day after day. Underneath was icky, ugly, rock-filled red clay.

Eventually we were left with mulch-covered 2:1 graded slopes from the upper road that also incorporates a swale for drainage, four boulders, and fourteen stone steps that reach a level area at the top where the greenhouse will be positioned. I didn’t completely grasp the significance of landscaping a 2:1 slope until the project was complete. Now I can tell you that gardening on a 2:1 slope is not for the weak spirited.

Water and electricity have been pulled to the upper level for the greenhouse, and all that’s needed are a few good men to help us lug the greenhouse pieces to the top and assemble. It’s easier said than done actually. We’re also thinking of adding a shower up there – it’s really pretty shocking how dirty a person can become while working in all this mulch.

While most informed landscapers will plot and plan their garden design, my husband and I have employed our usual strategy: we stop by the local garden center’s discount rack almost daily to see what we can find. I call it the ‘E.R. Cart’ because every plant is distressed to one degree or another, but if it’s a perennial we bring it home. The hole in this strategy is that you can’t exactly plan your design.

So far we’ve planted two fig trees, three ‘red hot’ crape myrtles, a cypress, blue spruce, raspberry and rose bush. Six different types of ornamental grasses are planted along the swale while the rest of the slopes are filled with tulips, daffodils, white and pink azaleas, early sunrise coreopsis, two hydrangea, four lemon sunset evening primrose, lilies, iris, red thyme, bellflower, twelve lavender bushes, two bags of wild flower seeds, and several plants that I can’t remember their names.

We found evergreen bushes for $10, big liriope was divided and transplanted from the side yard, and I salvaged a trillium and two additional flowering bushes from the swale minutes before the excavator destroyed them.

Several summer phlox seeds must have drifted over from the native garden next door last year and had sprung up in the front this spring. I’ve transplanted them to the slope by the greenhouse along with a half dozen other plant varieties I bought on Saturday at the native garden’s annual plant sale. I’ve been waiting on the day my husband exclaims there’s no more room for plants! But that’s rarely true in my world.

I wish I had taken a picture before the foundation was poured, but it’s good to see the landscape taking shape – if only in my own eyes.

Some day these distressed and doomed plants will blossom and reach their full potential, and my garden will no longer be lost in space.

My Garden Path

This summer’s project can be summed up in one word: landscaping. I was determined to reveal my progress last week until I saw the pictures. Another week of work, I thought, and it will be ready for prime time. It’s been another week and then some. . . let’s just agree to view my efforts through the lens of potential.

Ivy has been the predominant landscaping material house after house – not by choice. I have seriously wondered if there is some life lesson I should be learning that only ivy can teach. It eludes me still.

Ivy was everywhere.

Eradication consumes the larger part of year one. Mine is not a sophisticated approach. Grab it by the roots and pull. One pull always leads to another, and another – and you never know where it will take you. Roots become entangled – a pull here is thwarted by a root crossing over, which can change the direction of your effort 180 degrees, and send you on a wild chase under the fence, across the yard, or straight up the mountain.

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Mounds of ‘pulled’ ivy, and Mr. Boggs

A garden from long ago taught me there is only so much wilderness you can expect to tame, and I’ve attempted to be more realistic in my approach. The best results seem to come about naturally, as if this little spot of ground or that shady area in the corner is ready to become something different.

The dogs always play a role in my landscaping plan as well, and it has served me well to wait a bit and let them chart the path.

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The dogs created a path through the garden before I started pulling the ivy.

This was the year my husband also got involved. His first order of business was to organize a thorough clean-up.

Ardy and his crew spent three days taking out dead foliage, pruning overgrown limbs, and clearing the fallen trees. They sorted out the hardwoods for firewood, and burned the rest in four self-made fire pits around the house. The fires burned for two days after they left.

After suffering through a constant string of poison ivy outbreaks, we realized Bentley must be bringing it back down the mountain and transferring it directly to me. Abel stopped by and weed whacked the whole mountainside, and I’ve been free of a new outbreak of poison for over two weeks.

Dudley, Mr. Boggs and Bentley (right to left)

A Garden of Potential

With a clean slate (or, at least almost clean) we visited the Lowe’s Garden Center discount cart weekly (or more) and it was shocking what could be found there – $5 hydrangea, $2 canna lilies, $1 coral bells.

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The ferns are placed in such an even line around the rock that I wonder if this was a flower bed long ago – before the ivy took over. 

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There were day lilies underneath mounds of ivy on the other side of the path.

The $2 lilies found a home in one of the fire pits on the far side of the front yard. Fifty years of dead trees were removed from behind the house and now we can see all the way through the forest.

The patio being cleaned last August before we moved in, and at its most barren state this February.

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By May, the ferns have taken over with just one lone day lily peeking through.

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The sun hits this side of the house late in the day, and it seems to shine a light on a path that leads through the garden and up the mountain. . . some day.

The excess spring rain has nearly destroyed the potted plants, Dudley chased a critter underground and tore up the herb garden, and Mr. Boggs plows right through the ferns smooshing them flat to the ground.

As with life, each season brings new challenges, unexpected catastrophes. . . and sheer delight. There’s lots of work to be done before this project looks like my inspiration photo at the top of the post, and I wonder what sweet journeys lie ahead on our humble garden path.

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