EMERGENCE CONTINUES
By early May, I found the plants that had struggled from the earth were all thriving just the way they had done for years. I shook the winter ice from my soul, decided to plant some new perennials in front of the house, and begin the legacy of spicy roots for which I hope to be famous in the future.
Hell, I gotta do something with this farm.
The lawn greens up as the trees flush. Note the ferns emerging to the right of the meter loop.
Speckle apparently approves of the beginnings of The Standish Farm Famous Horseradish crop, newly planted from chunks of horseradish root in those little containers. I found the containers (along with several thousand more) in the greenhouse. The planting table would grow.
These are the flowers from the crysanthemumish weeds. Look just like buttercuspidors, don't they? They share the bill with some emerging poison ivy, bless its evil itchy little heart. I'd soon kill it and would continue to do so for some time.
Apple blossoms from the rather stressed apple tree on the fringes of the backyard. Perty, ain't they?
Within as well as outside the 'planter' to the right of the front lawn, sedum blooms heavily. The daffodils are fading at this point. The surrounding weeds are known as 'seven minute itch,' but the itch lasts for much longer. I would leave this area intact so as to see what comes up between the weeds.
This is the Scary Plant. It has such thickly clustered thorns that I decided not to to trim back the dead ones for fear of becoming hopelessly entangled, finally becoming a scraggly permanent scarecrow in my front yard. Hey, it could happen. The leaves resemble that of a rose.
Those reddish shoots from the last post turned out to be a cluster of peonies.
Peony bud
Spring perennials planted in front of the house. I'd scatter wildflower seeds between them and then add a dozen four-o'clocks to take over the summer blooming.
Raspberries beginning to fill out with leaves, as do the woods behind them.
A small herb garden on the south side of the house just after planting
Everything going seriously green
The beginning of The Horseradish Empire
Driveway to the garage gives up its ice only to beg to be mowed as often as possible
These wide-leafed plants came up early beneath the pear tree (told you I'd get around to it) and grew tall and beautiful even during the freezing nights of early spring. My lovely neighbor Susie, granddaughter of Bertha Izbicki, came over to show me some of the plants around the property. She introduced me to mint, poppies, and other plants I'd overlooked or was ignorant of their taxonomy. This was one.
Her story of this still unnamed flora is that it came from a local Indian. She refers to Native Americans, of which there are plenty around here, either Mashantucket Pequots, Mohegans, or Narragansetts (forgive me if I misspelled or left anyone out and please don't send the Snake God Yig to do something about it. I am friends with Yig and a visit will only be appreciated). This Indian gave the plants to Bertha because of her arthritis; he told her to make a tea out of it and that would help, though for the life of me I don't know how making tea can help arthritis. Oh, I guess she was supposed to DRINK the tea. Well, through the years, it became unknown whether it was the leaves or the roots that were the effective part, so I ask anyone who reads this (all four of you) if you have any idea just what the hell this thing is. It has grown huge and despite being eaten by the Speckle Pup as often as her hunger rises, still blooms as I write this in July.
Her story of this still unnamed flora is that it came from a local Indian. She refers to Native Americans, of which there are plenty around here, either Mashantucket Pequots, Mohegans, or Narragansetts (forgive me if I misspelled or left anyone out and please don't send the Snake God Yig to do something about it. I am friends with Yig and a visit will only be appreciated). This Indian gave the plants to Bertha because of her arthritis; he told her to make a tea out of it and that would help, though for the life of me I don't know how making tea can help arthritis. Oh, I guess she was supposed to DRINK the tea. Well, through the years, it became unknown whether it was the leaves or the roots that were the effective part, so I ask anyone who reads this (all four of you) if you have any idea just what the hell this thing is. It has grown huge and despite being eaten by the Speckle Pup as often as her hunger rises, still blooms as I write this in July.
The strange plant by the front door. It climbed through the topiary from its cinder-block rootball and has now been set free.
Swelling peony bud. Ants suck sugar from it
Looking past the old cold frame and to the since-gone greenhouse beyond. It is filled with Seven Minute Itch. But not for long.
One of two hydrangeas starting to leaf out; it was the only plant I recognized as I chopped back the dry stalks last fall.
An eclectic mix of raspberries, seven minute itch, sedum, and the scourge of this part of the country, Japanese bittersweet. That's the strangling vine on the post. Wisteria has nothing on this shit. At least wisteria blooms and smells sweet before it lifts the trim from your eaves. Bittersweet possesses no such graces.
Seven minute itch
Susie pointed out that one of my young maples is variegated, with entire sections of the tree sporting light green leaves lined with yellow. She says that people come from all around to view it in autumn, as it changes in...variegated ways, I suppose.
COMING SOON
SUMMER INTRODUCES HERSELF
THE RESTORATION OF THE GREENHOUSE
COMING SOON
SUMMER INTRODUCES HERSELF
THE RESTORATION OF THE GREENHOUSE
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