How my garden grows
Here’s a few photos from some of the work out in the garden I’ve done over the last
couple of days. And some gratuitous pet shots. I can’t help myself. Note the PIB and Finny shot. I didn’t force them to pose like that, honest!
The front garden/driveway got the spring cleanup treatment first. I didn’t take pictures of it, but I cleared out some melting cardboard and other trash that was left over after Mr. Wren made a dump run the other day. Then I swept and swept. There’s more out there to do, lots of pruning and weeding, but I really wanted to get busy on the back garden, where we are growing vegetables now and will grow many more before the season ends in October.
The first thing I needed to do was make the path between the chicken pen and the
first bed, which have artichokes and asparagus grown in them, walkable. It was totally grown-over by the climbing roses and shrub dogwoods that shade the chicken pen. So I took my trusty clippers to the viney, tangled mess. You can see the result. In fact, you can actually see all the way past the hen-house to the tarps in the neighbor’s yard. I also did a fair amount of weeding.
This pleases me. I like to be able to walk around the garden without needing a machete. But there’s a whole lot left to do. All those straw bales that formed the garden beds last spring and summer are rotting away; I need to cut the strings barely holding them in place, then break the straw up and rake it out, all over the high, grassy weeds that are coming up everywhere. I’m hoping the straw will kill off the weeds, which become foxtails by late spring.
Then I’ll rake and till up the soil so I can plant. That shouldn’t take too long; I’m not going to plant a huge garden this year. Just a reasonable one. I hope.
I still can’t let Finny run loose in the garden; Mr Wren hasn’t gotten to the fence-
fixing yet. So while I was outside this morning, I tied him (Finny, not Mr Wren) to the chicken pen. He’s fascinated by our old brood of Rhode Island red hens; they’re equally fascinated by Finny. So everyone was happy.
Eventually, Logan wandered over to see what that little party-crasher was so excited about, yawned (chickens are no big deal to Logan) and flopped in the shade of an old cedar. It’s the closest the two dogs have gotten to each other voluntarily since Finny moved in. Slowly but surely, the pack is accepting him.
And now, I’m taking a rest.