Spring Time for Marvelousness

A quick post so that you don't go into Marvelous Garden withdrawal.

Last year when I was finishing up my beautiful backyard patio I struck upon the idea of connecting an old fence post that I had laying around to the patio and putting some plant hooks on it. My steady stream of genius continues. Scandalously, however, my fiancée Kathy expressed doubts about the wisdom of my plan. Though I rightly should have broke off the engagement then and there, I decided that I would take her opinion under advisement and defer my plan for a year.

The other day, whilst browsing other inferior gardening blogs, I came across this picture.

Once I'd gotten over my indignation that someone had dared attempt to usurp one of my brilliant ideas, I decided to e-mail the picture to Kathy in order to illustrate to her the error of her ways. Immediately upon seeing said picture Kathy confessed that she was a fool for ever questioning the marvelousness of my gardening vision and insisted that I commence my plans forthwith. 

That is, in fact, exactly what I did. Look upon my works, ye mighty, and despair. My marvelousness, and that of my garden, knows no bounds.

What superb plants will fill these pots I have only just begun to ponder.

Before I go, let's say hi to an old friend, that paragon of the Allium schoenoprasum species, my chive plant. Each year it comes back more glorious than the last.

Marvelousdammerung?

For much of this winter it appeared as if Fenrir had broken his bounds and Ragnarok was loosed upon the land.

As the mighty Poetic Edda attests:

Brothers will fight

and kill each other,

sisters' children

will defile kinship.

It is harsh in the world,

whoredom rife

—an axe age, a sword age

—shields are riven—

a wind age, a wolf age—

before the world goes headlong.

No man will have

mercy on another.

Luckily, however, it now appears that Vidar has smoteth the mighty wolf before he could swallow the sun and that life will return to the world once more.

Today was day one of the recovery following our deep, snowy winter. Just as Yggdrasil the world tree shook and shuttered at Ragnarok, so too did my mighty plants endure a horrific beating from the mass of snow dumped upon them.

Above are pictured my formerly majestic Hydrangeas. The glacier-like snowdrifts have flattened them as if they were stepped on by the Jotunn Ymir.

And here are the pathetic remnants of what was once a fine Purple Leaf Sand Cherry. As you can see, it may have received too cruel a blow from whence it can not recover, much like Thor after he did battle with the Midgard Serpent.

Fortunately, this destruction presents me with an opportunity. As readers of this sublime blog well know, I have long contemplated moving my hydrangeas from the front of my house due to the fact that in the high summer of July and August the afternoon sun is too strong for the hydrangeas. Given the destruction wrought upon the hydrangeas I decided to put this plan into action today since they would not look very good this summer anyway.

One of the hydrangeas is going to take the place of the sand cherry on the northeast side of my house where it will mostly get shade on hot summer afternoons. The first task was removing the sand cherry.

This poor bastard really did take a beating. I'm not sure it can be saved, but I placed it into a pot with a lot of very rich soil.

If I can pull a Florence Nightengale and nurse it back to health, than maybe I can find a place for it in the front of the house in the area soon to be vacated by the hydrangeas.

Next, it is on to preparing the spot for the hydrangea. I am going to put the smaller of the two hydrangeas here since I still need to have room to get into the back yard.

Now, comes the hard part. Removing the hydrangea without damaging too much of it.

Midway through removing the hydrangea, my shovel gave out. I have been expecting this for a while. Much like a nautical equipment in salt water, the marvelousness of my garden slowly corrodes the various implements that I use to work in it. This necessitated a trip to the hardware store for a new shovel.

Overall, this is a fine new shovel. Hopefully it can be as powerful as the hammer of Thor and sustain the stress inflicted upon it from my garden's marvelousness. Once I went at it with the new shovel, the hydrangea was quickly out and ready to go into the new spot.

After the addition of some soil to get the level right and the addition of some blood meal the hydrangea went in, ready to make this side of the house even more marvelous.

You can see how things look in front with the hydrangea gone. The one on the right will be coming out soon as well. I have yet to decide exactly what I am going to do in front. Whatever it is, have little doubt that it will be marvelous.

Lastly, before leaving you to await your next glimpse of my paragon of horticulture, a few shots of the backyard, which, though it slumbered deeply under the layers of snow, appears to have come through unscathed.

Winter Marvelosity

I have a new camera to better document the splendid gift of the gods that is otherwise known as my garden.

Alas, it is the heart of deepest winter here in New England - one that has seen many feet of snow dumped upon us - and no garden presently thrives. New pictures of my Eden must wait until friendly climes resume.  But fear not, devotees of the most marvelous of gardens!  Just as Holger the Dane slumbers beneath Elsinore ready to once more come forth in glory, so too does my garden lay in wait until the day it resumes shining marvelousness upon the land.

Until that fine day, dear readers, content yourselves with marveling at these pictures, taken with my new camera, of the garden deep in its hibernation.

O Marvelosity, Where Art Thou?

Loyal Readers:  I didn't forget to update this blog; it's just that had I posted another update any sooner the cumulative marvelosity of my garden was likely to inflict serious injury upon you.  Much like Moses on Mt. Sinai after he was given the Ten Commandments by God, my garden's radiance would have you setting off Geiger Counters and airport security machines for months.

Now, having given you the opportunity to cool off, I present the latest edition of My Marvelous Garden.

As you can see in the picture below, the hydrangeas are in full bloom.  I'm still not really in love with the way mine in particular look.  If they would fill out a little more evenly I'd be thrilled.

Here is a close up of some of the flowers which, on their own, look great.  I just wish the whole package would come together a little better.

Now lets head around to the back.  

I got a new table for my violets which meshes a little better with the other tables that I have back there.

The impatiens.  Due to the tremendous heat it has been a pretty poor year of them.

My oldest and favorite astilbe at the peak of its prowess.  I have weed matting under the mulch; I think that in the fall I am going to have to cut some of it back to give this fine plant more room to spread.

The back garden.  This astilbe isn't the greatest, I'm trying to get it surrounded with a better mix of flowers so that the flower has a backdrop.  You can see the spiderwort to the right.  I'd like to get some kind of lily to perhaps go behind it.

A new addition.  The tall plant is a wild hydrangea that I found growing in the woods near my house.  I dug up one stem and transplanted it.  This picture was taken only a few days after the transplant, which is why the plant looks so droopy (the Death Valley-esque heat that we've been having hasn't helped either).

The hanging double impatien basket.  I can't give this bastard water fast enough, its like the anti-Gremlin.

Once again, my mighty climbing hydrangea.  Clearly my boy here is going to need some judicious pruning soon.

Another shot of the wild hydrangea.  This is a great spot for it.  Morning sun; dappled shade in the afternoon.

I had this arctic fire plant where the wild hydrangea is now, but it wasn't doing much for me there. As of now I prefer it in the pot.  In a year or two when it gets too big for this pot I will reevaluate my options.

My mighty impatiens vase. Sadly, the heat is doing a number on this model of Zeus-like virility.

Probably the finest back yard in the Western Hemisphere.

More marvelousness.

The latest change.  I added this small garden next to my patio because this is an area that just filled up with dead leaves.  As the hosta fills out it should help alleviate that problem.

Some random annual my grandfather gave me.

Passersby regularly cry and/or break out into lyric poetry when they behold this sight.

Richard Dawkins reconsidered his atheism when he saw this.

Little know fact: Sir Thomas Moore had this in mind when he wrote Utopia.

Ohhhhhh Myyyyy.  

That, my friends, is a 20 year old Banzai tree.  I will explain in the future, but right now you are probably so stupefied that even the power of my words could not bring you comprehend what you just saw.