I’m not really sure what the Chinese New Year is, but it should be the year of the chipmunk. Dear Lord, they’re prolific and running rampant this year. I bought a bunch of bulbs in the spring on line – yes, ok, I’ll admit it – Publishers Clearing House had a sale. They have probably been so busy delivering plant material that they haven’t been able to drop off my big check yet, but I digress. I planted the bulbs in a conspicuous place (so I’d remember where they are) and nothing. Not so much as a tender shoot has punctured the soil. I blame the chipmunks.
As I’ve mentioned before, my late grandfather had a philosophy about cars. He said that if you put gas in the tank and air in the tires, it should run forever. That’s all a car should need. I feel that same way about plants. If I water them regularly and give them fertilizer every so often along with a passing compliment while Mother Nature does her thing with occasional bursts of sunlight and showers, they should reward me with copious blossoms. Many do, but some give up early, like the irises and poppies I’ve tried two or three times now. Although the poppies did come back this year – maybe they’re the biennial variety? I, of course, with my usual calm dignity, take it as a personal affront. If I’ve taken the time and effort to plant them, their role is pretty straightforward. There are the mystery plants too. They look very nice the first year, getting my hopes up. You guys are perennials. That means, you come back every year. Don’t give me, “The winter was too cold. My roots froze.” The landscapers with their blowers in the spring chewed it up my irises, and apparently the physical and emotional scars were just too much for them. Anyone know a landscape therapist? Or the ornamental shrubs and trees that I put in, forgetting that they would grow larger. That cute little Austrian pine I put in to cover the gas lines in back into the house is now more than two stories tall. It looks great from the second story window, and of course we get a bird’s eye view of the gas connections.
My real confrontation with small animals started several years ago in a former house, and has escalated when a neighbor started feeding baby gophers “because they’re so cute.” Indeed they are. Every bit as cute as the baby woodchuck my niece “adopted” years ago. The cuteness wore off when it chewed and scratched the couch to bits looking for material to build a nest. Gophers get low marks from me on the “adorable” scale. Not all of nature considers them unattractive – apparently the foxes find them tasty. They destroyed zinnias, several large containers, in fact anything with blossoms. The neighbor’s cat discouraged them in her yard, so they moved comfortably over to mine. Next came a plump woodchuck (that’s a groundhog to non-New Englanders), who feasted on my false sunflowers and peonies before moving on to the coreopsis. I’d go out in the morning to find something missing – a garden bald spot that had opened up overnight. As a college acquaintance of many years back used to say, “there they were, gone!” There are a couple of cats in the neighborhood that make some effort to keep the critters at bay. That’s a help, although there’s one – a tabby – that is attacking the other cats. I don’t know to whom it belongs, but if it treats its owners like it treats its neighbors, that must be a fun household.
Her Ladyship and I took a ride over to one of my favorite nurseries about 20 miles away. It was a delightful day, but the problem is that I want to buy everything. I’d like to add a rose garden because much of the back lawn isn’t doing well. I usually get permission to do pretty much whatever I like because we’re down at the end of the street and nobody else can see us. One of my real “happy” places is over on the New Hampshire coast. We’d make a yearly pilgrimage, although we didn’t trust doing it this year. It’s part of what was a magnificent estate. There are rose gardens, a Japanese wooded garden complete with stream and bridges, and a replica of an English estate garden with high hedges standing in for stone walls. It also has greenhouses filled with exotic plants, and some truly spectacular beds of zinnias and dahlias. Many of their plantings are been developed right at the gardens, so you won’t see many of them anywhere else. This has given me the inspiration for putting in a small garden of roses. I’ve put in some sweetheart roses – the little ones, and they’ve done well, so that’s what makes me think that tea roses might prosper there too.
We’ve gone “organic”, except that we really haven’t because there are no organic folks large enough to take care of our large association. So, what began as an experiment in using less chemical warfare has now devolved into benign neglect. Because of the way our home is situated, there is no “front” lawn – only a grassy area in the back. So, I’m taking matters into my own hands, poking holes and spreading grass seed and fertilizer. After a week of rain a while back, it’s looking better already.
You’d think that something so intimately connected to the natural world would be trouble-free and continual upward movement. Not at all true. Gardening is like the wars between England and France – they seesaw back and forth, each at some moment claiming victory. There are side skirmishes with the chipmunks and squirrels, who continually feast on spring bulbs. One chipmunk, that I call Herman, though he doesn’t respond, even came up onto my back deck and dug his way into a couple of containers. Herman and a couple of buddies (or consorts) have been digging tunnels and uprooting bulbs at a prodigious rate for some time now. I’m convinced he’s networking with the squirrels. “You guys dig up the big bulbs. We’ll take care of the little ones.”
We usually have a small flock of hummingbirds coming by each year. I’m not sure what the term for plural or group of hummingbirds is. I’d say “gaggle”, but they don’t make any noise, so that’s probably not it. However, they do come in groupings. In fact, I was sitting on the deck reading a few weeks back and one flew right up to the container not two feet from me. We didn’t interact much, although I could tell he or she was pleased and rewarded for their efforts.
The great gardening adventure goes on with morning watering routines, clipping and deadheading, trips to the nursery, and planning new projects. It slows down as we head into the hot days of summer, often because money and my energy are running low. The overall plan is set things up in May and June, maintain in July, and then hit cruise control into August and September – watering and prayer mostly. I can’t get out to do as much as I should in the hot weather. The daughter mentioned that she was bored and needed some activity a few days ago. Of course, her idea of activity is a run to Starbucks. I suggested that she might mulch the front gardens. As this is a family blog, with few rating benchmarks, I won’t tell you her response. Let’s just say, it wasn’t something I can put in print here, along the lines of “I’m thinking . . . . . NO!
I'm Thinking...No! 