I do love flowers. They have some kind of crazy tractor beam that pulls me in. I can't walk into a store without first looking at their potted flowers for sale and thinking about how pretty that would be in my own garden.
For five years I worked on my garden at my old house. I loved it! I had Dahlias, Peonies, a Clematis to die for, Lilies, Daisies, Bachelor Buttons, Columbines, Asters, Marigolds, Pansies...I was insanely proud of all the flower beds I'd hacked out of the grass by myself.
Then we moved. And the one flower bed here was sad and pathetic and the inside of the house took all my focus. I lost my drive. I did a little bit, even dug out a new flower bed, but never really did much else. I planted things every year, but wasn't surprised if they didn't survive.
But this year, five years later, I went outside in the spring and just started working. I weeded, I dug things up, moved things around, realized I will never be free of that climbing rose no matter how many times I dig it out so I might as well train it to grow up and not out, and discovered, my flower beds are rocking the spring look.
I can go outside and see the millions of irises I dug up, broke up and moved around, the Irises I call Grandma's creek Irises because my Grandma has them growing around her creek and I got them from her, the Columbines I have been cultivating, moving the new starts carefully to other parts of the garden, my Sweet Williams that took over one part of the garden are now spread out around the whole house, the Daisies that make me think of my Grandma D because I have a hint of a memory of my uncle telling me those were her favorite flowers, the yellow Rhodies I bought when I was at a super plant sale with my Mom and are supposed to bloom in time for memorial day weekend but never seem to, the Hydrangea that my daughter gave me that has actually never bloomed but hasn't died either so I keep it, about half of the 150 bulbs I bought through a school fundraiser and planted with my daughter actually made it through the winter, the huge Dahlia my kids wheeled out to me in a little red wagon for my 32nd birthday.....
It's funny to me how after five years, I love my garden. So many of the plants are tied to memories, I hadn't even realized it until this year.
But, I've been giving considerable thought to the fact that the garden wears it's spring clothes lovely, but it's summer wardrobe is a bit bare. I might actually have to do some research on summer blooming flowers! Gasp!
Summer blooming, drought resistant flowers. I still tend to forget to water those babies!