Enough cherry sprouts had got big enough that they'd be easy to spot to clip by hand, but that entire section of yard was a foot tall so I weedwhacked most of it, clipping only some things like the weeds that look like monster dandelions on trunks of pure water and the cherry sprouts among the bishop's weed and carefully around the johnny-jump-ups.
If only somewhat better, the yard now looked shorter, and I looked at the other half. I prefer long grass, but maybe it had strong enough roots to be cut. This summer my primary task is Bindweed Vigilence. With kitchen drama this year, I didn't replace the grass, and buffalo grass is supposed to resist weeds once it's established. Fewer weeds in its soil will improve that resistance, and shorter grass means I can spot bindweed easier.
I had already raked the grass clear of everything I ripped out of the beds. Now I raked it twice, first with a leaf rake, and second a with a bow rake to comb the grass all in one direction. And then I mowed, such a pleasing rolling snicker-snick sound, first this way and then that. Either we don't have the right or enough grass or a reel mower cuts the blades differently or what I actually like is the smell of gas, because I didn't get that fresh-mown grass smell that I love, but it smelled pretty good. Even though much of it is four inches or taller, the lawn looks tidy and not bald: it's only May and the dead spots aren't yet in evidence.
I had previously read that cuts made by reel mowers heal faster than those made by power blades. This site's explanation is amusing: it says the reel mower was invented in 1830 and has been proven by over 200 years of worldwide use. What year is it again?
I planted 20 baby bishop's weed along the north side of the house, toward the front. The space needs another 30, say, but will have to wait until next year except for some gingerly transplanted attempts from the back. I dug big holes for each tiny plant to surround them with loosened soil, but I might have been too hasty. Last year I planted the vinca six hours after four inches of snow fell only because I was leaving the country the next day; this year I hope the bishop's weed will thrive as well being planted the day after a two-inch snowfall. But the vinca went into the unamended easement while the bishop's weed went into thoroughly compacted garden fill. The difference in the soil, dry under the eaves and soaking five feet out, was marked.
The north front garden should have enough plants in it now except for its slope, which remains barren. I planted three each of Centranthus ruber 'Coccineus' Jupiter's beard, Salvia farinacea Texas violet, and Salvia chamaedryoides germander sage. Shockingly, the first has red flowers, not blue or lavender.
As have the three Aquilegia formosa, red spur columbine, that I planted along the south fence. I hope they're hardy little plants that can beat up that daisy thing that is colonizing the back yard.
My thinking on weeds has changed somewhat. They used to be bits that grew on their own without care or water, and that was good. Now they take water from my deliberate plantings and prevent them getting established. That monster dandelion thing's stem is more a succulent trunk packed full of water. And I don't compost hot enough to kill their seeds--and I'm convinced some most weeds propagate from any smallest part, seed root or leaf--so all that water can't go into compost.
A few beans and and lots of spinach are coming up in the east vegetable bed, but no carrots yet. The south front garden is thriving, except for the Achillea ageratifolia Greek yarrow, which might only look scraggly, and one Penstemon pinofolius. The peony looks 11 months pregnant with octuplets.
I bought a two-gallon container of Caryopteris Blue Mist Bluebeard, whose name I just learned yesterday. Several form the beginning of a hedge along Dot Org's western boundary, and I admired them all last summer. No one knew its name, including one man who said very definitely that it was butterfly bush--despite its flowers having neither the right shape nor color. High Country Gardens sells the genus, I now know, and I had flagged its species for later, but the varieties it sells didn't bear enough resemblance to what I sought for me to connect them. Yesterday in Home Depot, where I did not find more of the round pavers I need for a path around the north corner through the bishop's weed to the spigot, I did find a well-established plant with a name and snatched it up. I haven't given up on the Cytisus purgans Spanish gold hardy broom against the porch, so I didn't put it there. I'll put it between the hedge maple (whose leaf buds still haven't opened--when do I decide it didn't make it?) and the pear, since that space is lonely without the piñon.
There is still so much to do: I long for tulips, but would they look out of place in an otherwise dry garden? I have to do something under the nectarine and pear, but whatever happens there has to be tough enough to withstand traffic under birdfeeders. I am leaving the porch bits empty for now, hoping the Cytisus purgans takes off and the Artemisia x 'Powis Castle' silver sage grows into its potential. I have to divide the catmint again, but I think it's divide and compost because if I divide and plant the divisions, it will divide and conquer the entire lot. It's like sourdough bread, always more proof. I love the wall one neighbor built and should have done the same before I planted the south side--I didn't because RDC worried about holding more water against the house. Building a wall now would mean sacrificing or at least risking the south slope's beautiful speedwell and stork's-bill and snow-in-summer. It's why I didn't plant the north slope this time. The north easement needs vinca too, and I'll take cuttings for it from the south side, which is doing very well, later this month.
I mostly know what I have to do; I just have to plan my projects. Next up to to scrub and seal the fence. Replacing the lawn will wait for next year. Maybe then I'll build walls--a reason not to plant the north easement this season, since that's where tons of bricks would be delivered. Eventually I must relay the patio, which is uneven and lacks, I suspect, landscaping cloth underneath it, and the walk, which is more chicory than brick.
The length of board we can lash to Cassidy, not the length of the space available, determined the length of the new vegetable bed. So it's 12 feet long, not 14. It's 44 inches wide, not 48, because of a sprinkler head that won't retract--why I don't just bust the heads I couldn't say, since I buried the system controls when I filled the north side in last year. And ha, my first instinct was right and I need 1.6 cubic yards of garden soil (no, I don't remember how I calculated it last time, only that I did it nine different ways of wrong first).
I figure dirt isn't sold by the fraction. I wish I had cooked enough compost to need only the one, because I'm not sure where I can tuck the spare 10 cubic feet of dirt. I did buy big pots for annuals on the porch columns, and I'll plant another squirrel climbing tree in the shape of a cherry tomato in a patio pot, but otherwise I think it will live in a heap in that triangle between frame and fence until I build up the front slopes into retaining walls maybe next year.
All the old cabinetry is gone except the drawers and doors, which have been on that bit of ground and are now within the frame doing their job as weed suppressants. By the time the next large-item pick-up week happens, that frame will be filled with dirt and seeds.
I wonder how long it will take for all the bindweed rearing ugly, hydra heads under all that particle board to grow through another foot of dirt.