Cut down the mass of boxwood and a 'La Reine' rose I'd previously removed that had grown back from roots.
The gravel path was a layer of loose gravel on top, but below is a solid mix of soil and gravel. I started by removing most of the loose gravel.
Now I'm screening out the soil that is mixed in with the rest. The invaluable plant tray is excellent as a sieve of sorts. The satisfying crunch generated by walking on a gravel path delights me. It is as though my feet are eating potato chips. I know gravel paths are a mess, and generally out of favor--but I love the crunch-crunch-crunch of them.
The Agave continues.
And not far past the demolished pathway is petite Salvia muirii. I hope I don't regret planting it, that it remains petite and well-behaved, and not a monsterous thug like 'Black And Blue'.
I had to take a break from gravel sifting and Salvia worry to run to the Vet to retrieve Hoover's ashes. I knew he would want to get the hell away from the Vet's office as soon as possible, no matter what form he was in. My dear boy. Ow! Owww! Owwwwww!! Hurts! Hurts! Miss my boy. When I got him back in the car, I shoved the box as far forward as I could on the passenger side floor, so he could be in front, in the lead, where he always loved to be. Ouch. Hurts. Miss my boy.
The gravel path was a layer of loose gravel on top, but below is a solid mix of soil and gravel. I started by removing most of the loose gravel.
Now I'm screening out the soil that is mixed in with the rest. The invaluable plant tray is excellent as a sieve of sorts. The satisfying crunch generated by walking on a gravel path delights me. It is as though my feet are eating potato chips. I know gravel paths are a mess, and generally out of favor--but I love the crunch-crunch-crunch of them.
The Agave continues.
And not far past the demolished pathway is petite Salvia muirii. I hope I don't regret planting it, that it remains petite and well-behaved, and not a monsterous thug like 'Black And Blue'.
I had to take a break from gravel sifting and Salvia worry to run to the Vet to retrieve Hoover's ashes. I knew he would want to get the hell away from the Vet's office as soon as possible, no matter what form he was in. My dear boy. Ow! Owww! Owwwwww!! Hurts! Hurts! Miss my boy. When I got him back in the car, I shoved the box as far forward as I could on the passenger side floor, so he could be in front, in the lead, where he always loved to be. Ouch. Hurts. Miss my boy.
Glad to see you moving on your project! I had a dream about Hoover, he was just sitting there facing me in some room, all happy, looking at me. So odd how our minds work, considering I only recall how he looks from your pics!
ReplyDeleteWhatdya mean, gravel paths are out of favor? Glad you rescued Hoover. We still have our newf Pamela's ashes in a 5-lb coffee can, and it's been decades now. Former kitties, however, are planted all over the garden. Gosh, they're with us for such a short time.
ReplyDelete@Desert: wow, that's an uncanny dream to have had. Hoover spent a lot of his life simply staring at me, for reasons known only to him.
ReplyDelete@Denise--gravel paths are not out of favor? Good! I like them! Yes, pets are with us all too short a time. They never wear out their welcome.
Oh, so sorry to hear about Hoover Boo! I so much enjoy your blog and get a chuckle whenever Hoover enters the pic. He will be missed!
ReplyDelete