You would think that with my “free” time lately, I’d get out of the practice of packing all the yard work into the weekend. To some degree my habits have changed but as for gardening, up until this weekend spring has been cold and damp. Of course with my daughter home on vacation this past week, it rained every day until Thursday and then she and I went out of town—so nothing of consequence was attempted outside until Saturday, when I accomplished a lot. A brief or not so brief synopsis follows:
Tilled and loosened the soil with a mattock, mixed six bags of compost with equal parts of peat moss and spread wheelbarrows full of the stuff across three separate gardens. Fertilized eight rose bushes, sprayed weed killer along the cracks of the “upper” patio, transplanted three hostas that were hidden behind the rhododendrons to the shady corner by the shed. Deadheaded the hydrangeas and split yellow and red daylilies from the garden by the bedrooms and planted them in the garden by the garage. Grabbed the mattock again, and dug out fern roots from among the sprouting daylilies, an annual requirement least they take over the world. Planted a spent tulip display left over from Easter by the front lamp post--not sure whether I’m supposed to wait until autumn to do that or not, but I left the greens on.
Returned to the house and cleaned out the 17 (all right, I'm embellishing, there were only eight) containers of leftovers cluttering the fridge and made herbed spaetzle (chives and sage are already up in the garden, the fresh parsley came from the fridge) to sauté for a side dish to go with grilled boneless pork ribs for dinner. I trashed the kitchen in the process, so I washed dishes and cleaned batter smeared counters.
Next, I joined my daughter who is working off her cost of a school trip to Costa Rica planned for next winter (we call it her “Costa Lotta” trip), and helped her bleach the mildew off of the front porch railing (for you Boston Globe readers, yes, that porch railing). Apparently I sighed so many times while scrubbing that she evicted me, so I returned to the yard; transplanted a wayward foxglove from the woods to the garden and shifted around others that had the audacity to seed themselves where they wanted in back. Cooked dinner and a banana bread for this mornings’ coffee for the seniors.
So here we are Monday morning and of course, with all the bending lifting, walking, squatting, twisting, turning, climbing, digging and hoeing I did all in one day, I am sore to the bone. As my spine cracks from the simple effort of sitting in this chair, I’m wondering whether I’ll be an acceptable volunteer for the seniors, or if I should sign myself in when I arrive and sit right down with them.