This may be the height of my art. Late Spring, and my dream to see Persephone by her portal to the Underworld, surrounded by fox glove, peony, false indigo, lady’s mantle, and iris in a greenery of many textures pleases me immensely. It is my installation art, trying to tell a story. Mint under foot, releasing its scent, is deeply relaxing. This is a great cup of coffee.
But what’s ahead? The weeds stick out everywhere. Vines are climbing, soft and tender now, but soon strangling. The morning glory already killed my clematis. The wetness of Spring will dry up into summer. Dehydrated plants are vulnerable to bad insects. Then what? Weeds, dead plants, and the heavy feeling that if I did more, the garden would look better.
The street garden is lush with roses and buds by the thousands, but they will wither and die if they are made to go through July without water. I set up a soaker hose, and the DPW called to say I was in violation of the water ban. I had a guy come out and talk about a well, but he said he didn’t think my yard was suitable.
Maybe I can figure out a scheme for easy watering. There is still more to come. Lilies, hydrangea, rose campion, more wild geranium, lavender, more thyme, and Brooke. She is my rescuer. Meanwhile, I will try and enjoy the garden for what it is now, which is mostly pretty great.
Dandelion wine-making is on. Yesterday, I took the tender flowers out of the freezer where some of them had been stored for as long as a month. They did not feel icy or crunchy, so I guess they do not have a lot of water. They may have been a bit darker, but overall, they seemed to me pretty fresh. I followed the recipe described in a previous post, boiled the tea for a couple hours, and am letting it sit undisturbed on the stove-top for a few days. Meanwhile, I have to get to the package store and buy the winemakers yeast.
