At first, I was kicking myself for letting yet another bunch of spring bulbs sprout in the bag. Now I’m just embarrassed that I didn’t notice they’re fall crocus. So much for thinking I was getting better at this gardening stuff. Consider these a bonus, Ma Bell. The other varieties I bought for you really are spring bloomers.
Lindy’s sniffing them to see if they’re lettuce. She loves lettuce.
I’m still in a hard sprint to get all of my plants in the ground before the onslaught of months-long Pacific Northwest rains. I’m making excellent progress, but not quite fast enough. Isn’t that always the case, though?
Today I put in a 10-hour gardening day and realized at some point that I was counting aloud to myself, like sheep, as I put each daylily division in the ground: one hundred one, one hundred two, one hundred three ….
When I had to turn on the porch lights so I could see and heard myself muttering, “I’ll give up my spade when they pry it from my cold, dead fingers,” I figured I’d better hang it up for the night.
One more day of partial sun—if I’m not too stiff and sore to roll out of bed in the morning.
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