Cider Press Hill

Wildly growing things

Good morning. The sun brightly shines and the birds are in the family way. Birds of all sizes have one thing in common this week—they all have tufts of nest building materials hanging out of their beaks. Bits of straw, string, fur, paper, twigs. You name it. The male mockingbirds have also been sitting on the front porch roof, singing through the night. They are a bit loud. I do hope they settle down soon.

Last week there were very few flowering plants in the neighborhood. This week, the trees are in nearly full leaf, the forsythias are in full bloom, the azalea blooms are out in a multitude of colors. So are the daffodils and tulips. Also the tulip trees and flowering dogwoods (except mine). And, this morning, the crab apple trees burst out with their beautiful pink blossoms. Our neighborhood is a riot of color.

With the recent rains, my grass has started growing madly. As well as the weeds. My yard simply doesn’t understand discipline. In all my years of yard and lawn care, I’ve never had such a challenging yard. It’s not very large, you know, but when everything wants to grow in it without regard for my yard plans, the battle of wills seems to maintain a fevered pitch for the duration of the growing season. There is no restraint whatsoever. Is that a small yard quirk? I’ve had large yards that maintained orderliness. Maybe it was because there was enough room for volunteers to sink down roots without looking as if they were determined to take over. I am already tired of fighting with weeds and we aren’t even into the main growing season yet. It’s going to be a long summer.

I like gardening. And I like nurturing plants. What I don’t enjoy is having to murder plants on a darned near daily basis. I wish they’d understand that.

Posted on 04/28/06 at 08:31 AM
 




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