For four months of the year, my writing tends to take a backseat to my other passion—my garden. I’ve been actively gardening for about ten years. I’ve had several set-backs. Six years ago we put in a patio and the construction workers drove heavy equipment over my garden while they were digging the foundation. Two years in a row, we had devastating hailstorms that reduced much of my garden to stalks. Last May we had a late blizzard that flattened (although it did not kill) many of my perennials.
But the exciting news is that a year ago, my neighbors took our their dying cottonwood, which used to shade a good chunk of our yard. So this summer I have a brand new flowerbed, and I wasted no time in expanding it and planting annuals. The result was a “wall of flowers” in one area and profuse blooms in another, older flower bed.
I planted daylilies, allium and foxtail lilies bulbs this fall, so that will add interest. Plus, I’m going start morning glories inside and get a tall trellis to display them. I do so love morning glories.
In my main garden, I will continue to add things. I’ve also decided to weed out some of the sunflowers near the patio, as I mainly grow them for the birds, and they’re too skittish to come that close to the house. (Probably a good idea since we have five cats!)
In gardening, as soon as one season ends, you start to dream of the next. In writing, when one book is finished, you immerse yourself in a new one.