Profound, Relief-Induced Euphoria

'The Poet's Wife'
  

Profound, relief-enduced, hope-enducing euphoria can take many forms.  In current events this past week, that's what seemed to be happening.  In a far smaller, plant-based way, I experienced it myself.

Whew!

I felt it yesterday after a small team came to clean up and mulch the far west side of the garden.  It's something I have been unable to do because of the knee.  The area looked terrible.  I was in full cringe about it.

Before, from a distance, because close-up was worse:

 After:

 Now it looks great.  The team I hired did a fine job.  They trimmed my side of the neighbor's hedge , cut the Russellias to the ground, pulled weeds, removed dried up foliage, removed the giant spent Agave, and fixed a couple of irrigation leaks.  Then, they mulched.  Undoubtedly they felt tired when they finished.

I felt relief-induced euphoria.

The towering, drying Agave flower stem I cut down myself the previous week;  It was over 30 feet (9 m) tall. 

I'm not expecting any seedlings.

The team, using a chain saw and a pick, removed the dregs of the plant.

There on the left, grrr gone!

Relief, relief.  It was tough, even for them.

It's not time yet for fall planting, but you can feel it approaching.  The daylight hours ebb and the nights cool, little by little.  Relief, relief.

I managed to limb up Baby the oak tree a bit.

Even a few branches filled two green waste bins:

It's hard to tell anything at all was removed, but now the 'Frosty Blue' Agave ovatifolia will get a little direct sunlight:

Baby the Oak has potential babies of her own this year, and plenty of them:

This week a Scrub Jay was defending "his" oak from six Acorn Woodpeckers that flew in to investigate all those unripe acorns.  Quite a squawkfest erupted.  The Scrub Jay won that battle, but the Woodies will be back.  They work as a team.  He should not feel relieved.

 Bit of a surprise, some bulbs I planted quite a few years ago flowered with multiple stems per bulb.  A garden friend insist I take them.  She had no idea what they were.  She said with happy enthusiasm, "They'll spread everywhere!" 

I have to say, in my opinion, "spreading everywhere" is not a virtue.  (See Eriocapitella huphensis.) I planted them in an un-irrigated location in poor soil.  For maybe seven or eight years they were covered up by a Maireana sedifolia.  When I pulled the Maireana last year, the bulbs were there, apparently dormant, decidedly not spreading, amazingly, not dead. 

After the generous rainfall of winter 22-23 one of the bulbs flowered.  This year, they all have.  Amacrinum, maybe?  Crinodonna?  Amarine, because they've been flowering towards autumn, (or are they just late)?  They have more flowers per bulb than Amaryllis belladonna. 

-Hmm.  What's that?

Aww. Cool!

I'm relieved the bulbs haven't spread everywhere.  

 Dahlia 'Duet' has flowered.  Always reliable, if late. 

Enough roses to keep me and the aphids happy.  'Rouge Royale' didn't have much of a spring, but her August has been impressive:

The glory of August continues to be the Lagerstroemias, not only in my garden but all over the neighborhood.  My 'Dynamite's look great:

A neighbor's pale cool pink, too.  He asked me one day a few years ago why his never flowered.  I said my guess was that he should not have them pruned right before they were about to flower, which is what he was doing. "Oh," he said, but took the advice.

If not relief, than at least a touch of euphoria.