Monday, June 13, 2016

Infrastructure

After another yesterday of terrible news, gardening hardly seems important.  The cool gloom allowed for a bit of infrastructure improvement, moving sprinklers away from the edge of the slope.  This simple small move eliminated run off.  The water run off was minor--a pint or two--but it feels good to reduce that to as close to zero as possible.  
After, no more dribble down the gutter.  
 It's a matter of love and hope, in the garden but also in the larger world.  Love in the end will conquer hate.







Love will win. 

15 comments:

  1. Just awful. The shockwaves are felt strongly here. Love will win.

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    1. Yes it will. The bad guys are way outnumbered.

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  2. Sad day indeed. These photos aren't from your own garden, are they? Surely you haven't been hiding mass plantings from us? (And by the way, I only ever want to hear the word "mass" when it's immediately followed by "plantings")

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    1. No, just the two irrigation photos are from home. The rest from local nursery.

      The gloom is more than just the weather today. Me, too, re: "mass".

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  3. Muy bonitas fotos. Un abrazo desde Plantukis

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  4. That's my hope too. The beauty of the garden also offers a salve.

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  5. If everyone was a gardener, the world would be a different place, don't you think ? That Dahlia is a beaut Hoov, do you know it's name ?

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    1. It is a tragedy (and virtue) of our species that everyone is not the same. The non-gardeners can do the housecleaning, right? No idea on the Dahlia, it was a bedding variety...there are a lot in that color range.

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  6. I actually do think that gardening helps. Gardening is nurturing, and there's no nurturing without love. What else can we do but keep on keeping on? There are no more words.

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  7. Never more grateful for the garden than this week.

    Foxgloves have reached that silly stage where only the bells at the very top of the stalks are blooming -- and the stalks are about a foot taller than usual from all the spring rain. During the day, I resolve to cut them down. At dusk, they're like torches catching and holding whatever light there is (all the foxgloves here are white), and I put that job off for the day coming soon when they're completely bloomed out.

    I've been a happier gardener since realizing that the self-sowing plants with horizontal tiers of tiny white daisies are native annual Erigeron (also at record heights this year). Now I let them fill in among the perennials, where they set off the daylilies' big splash of color, and make a scrim for big grasses and shrubs. It's easy to edit them out where there's too much fuzz; chopped up, they make a nice feeding mulch for permanent plants.

    Another self-sown native, Yucca filamentosa, is at absolute peak bloom. The clump at the back of the border, freed in recent years from honeysuckle, Virginia creeper, and {brrr} tree of heaven, put up a record eight bloom stalks, all of which opened at the same time. A cloud of carved ivory. Sha-zay-um.

    Thanks be for the abundance of rain that made this such a spectacular show, for the clear air that puts off summer's steam for just a bit longer, for the time to enjoy it all. Thanks be for another day.

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