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. 

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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