the rich dark earth

I slept in today. No, really, until about 11 a.m. I only woke up because I heard the banana nut muffins coming out of the oven, and the coffee finish percolating.

And it was good.

Then I called Mrs. P (whose fenced-in vegetable garden was the holding area for my 10 cascara trees and 5 vine maples) and asked if I could come fetch the trees. They are bare root seedlings, not more than 30" sticks, and easy enough for me to deal with, even as hobbled as I am. The Pandammy house, just three doors down from here, is set way off the street; once I got up the driveway I was greeted with a lawn absolutely awash in blue: forget-me-nots. Once past the corner of the house, the lawn changed from blue to white with millions of tiny daisy-like flowers.

I didn't get there a moment too soon. Mrs. P offered to help me plant the seedlings, and our menfolk decided to load our pup and their pack of spaniels into the Swedemobile and let them run the beach. We got about half of each of the trees planted and heeled in the rest, since they're going into the jungle out back, but not before the big laurels get planted. I took the opportunity to dig up all the rosemary I had by the Volkwagen-sized rock out back and stick them in the beds near the deck. And we decided to move a barberry, though it ended up only moving about 15 feet.

It was cool and breezy, with lots of sun and some passing clouds. hobbitt got back from the dog-walk and asked me to site the laurels, and together we planted the two out front. I pulled up some of the native blackberry that's popping up all over the place, mixed a batch of deer repellent in the sprayer, and then went out back to site the other six laurels. That involved an hour of pulling stinging nettles (and I found out, to my chagrin, that my sleeves didn't reach quite so far as my gardening gloves). We used bamboo stakes with flags to mark the spots in which the laurels will be planted, and continued to pull nettles all the way across the back. While we were there, I sprayed Bobbex on the English laurels that I planted last year, and which were stripped to the bone in late winter by the black-tailed rats. Uh, deer.

We pulled shotweed and nettle and all I can say is thank the heavens I don't have horsetail here, too. We found the amsonia I planted on the embankment last year and weeded around it. They'll have to be moved but at least now I'll be able to find them. I noticed that my the liatris and rudbeckia and coreopsis are coming on strong, and weeded around them, too. That whole garden will have to be moved this year.

By this time I'd been on my feet for several hours and though my knee wasn't giving me any trouble at all, my feet were beginning to protest. It was 7:00. We could have worked out there for another 90 minutes. Yes, it was still light enough to work outside just a half-hour ago. And I love that about this place - in mid-June we'll have daylight until almost 10:00 p.m.

The weekend was a marvelous remedy to the restless and angry confinement I've experienced this week. Monday was kind of fun, since I got to have some good drugs and be the center of attention, and sleep. Tuesday and on through Friday - well, all I can say is that I'm glad they're over. The stint I did at the Farmer's Market yesterday went quickly. We had lots of brief visits from folks wanting to know 1) the best way to remove horsetail, 2) what kind of blackberry this is, 3) will bleeding-heart grow here, 4) why are the new peach leaves curling. The answers are 1) pulling by hand with attention and persistence for five years, 2) probably seedlings from your raspberries, 3) yes, and there's a lovely native variety, too, and 4) response to cold. It was windy and quite cold and damp uptown. I was glad when the two hours was up, yet it was nice to see the Farmer's Market from a different angle: the major weekly social event.

But today was the very best. Today I got to put my shovel into the rich dark earth. Today I got to stand in the afternoon's breeze with dirt under my fingernails, toss the ball for the dog, and work until my feet and back ached just a bit. And now as I rest, even the throbbing in the skin of my wrists, the painful reminder of the power of stinging nettles, is an almost pleasant companion. Almost.