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The Battle of Whale Rock
We moved to Gloucester for the summer on Sunday. Then came the question, "what summer?"
It actually wasn't raining today, and after lunch the sky was even noticeably brighter than it had been, so we decided it was time to recognize, once again, that we actually have a garden. A little testing determined that the soil was not, in fact, too soggy to work with, so I decided to look over the seedlings that had been under the Gro-light and see what could be salvaged and planted.
It turned out quite a few things could be. So I put in the California poppies (near where the ones planted outside were) and the Bergenia (how can one resist a plant whose popular name is "pigsqueak"?), and then came to consider the two or maybe three Iceland poppies, supposed to be perennial and 15 inches high. But could I find an apporpriate sunny spot in any of our existing perennial beds? I could not.
One of these beds is known as Whale Rock, because it is bordered by a boulder whose shape suggests the head of a mostly-submerged whale. (A large number of our garden areas are named (Something) Rock, for obvious reasons.) Behind it, in the shade of a clump of wild cherry trees (on the north side, fortunately). is a great tangle of pasture rose, wild blackberry, cat briar, and something that John calls "killer vine", because that's what it is, plus various other things.
Earlier this spring John had said that we really ought to extend the planted/plantable area in front of this rock around its lower (western) end -- not a minor undertaking, as that is where the blackberry was thickest and most aggressive. When I expressed doubt, he came back with the unanswerable "Well, that's what my mother would have done!" So I held my peace and figured it would come in its turn, some year or other.
But here I was with these perennials that really wanted to go into the ground and nowhere to put them. So the attack on the jungle was made. Much work with pick and grubhoe to get roots out -- those blackberries are tough, and there was the remnants of a small cherry that we knew would keep coming back if we let its roots stay. Much clipper work, and much thankfulness that it was cool enough to be wearing flannel shirts, since most of those plants will rip the skin off you given half a chance. But eventually we had cleared an acceptable space all around the rock, and while John piled the cuttings in the back section to act as mulch, I dug up the western end and turned it into garden, only complaining that he was in my way a couple of times.
During all this the sun came out, which was perhaps not altogether opportune -- I hadn't expected to be sweating today. But the deed is done, the poppies are in the ground -- it turned out that there were two very tiny ones hidden under the others, so if they all survive (doubtful) there will be five plants, which gives us a shot at having maybe two or three colors, anyway. ANd there's room for a couple of more perennials -- with full sun!
Not bad for an hour's work or so.
It actually wasn't raining today, and after lunch the sky was even noticeably brighter than it had been, so we decided it was time to recognize, once again, that we actually have a garden. A little testing determined that the soil was not, in fact, too soggy to work with, so I decided to look over the seedlings that had been under the Gro-light and see what could be salvaged and planted.
It turned out quite a few things could be. So I put in the California poppies (near where the ones planted outside were) and the Bergenia (how can one resist a plant whose popular name is "pigsqueak"?), and then came to consider the two or maybe three Iceland poppies, supposed to be perennial and 15 inches high. But could I find an apporpriate sunny spot in any of our existing perennial beds? I could not.
One of these beds is known as Whale Rock, because it is bordered by a boulder whose shape suggests the head of a mostly-submerged whale. (A large number of our garden areas are named (Something) Rock, for obvious reasons.) Behind it, in the shade of a clump of wild cherry trees (on the north side, fortunately). is a great tangle of pasture rose, wild blackberry, cat briar, and something that John calls "killer vine", because that's what it is, plus various other things.
Earlier this spring John had said that we really ought to extend the planted/plantable area in front of this rock around its lower (western) end -- not a minor undertaking, as that is where the blackberry was thickest and most aggressive. When I expressed doubt, he came back with the unanswerable "Well, that's what my mother would have done!" So I held my peace and figured it would come in its turn, some year or other.
But here I was with these perennials that really wanted to go into the ground and nowhere to put them. So the attack on the jungle was made. Much work with pick and grubhoe to get roots out -- those blackberries are tough, and there was the remnants of a small cherry that we knew would keep coming back if we let its roots stay. Much clipper work, and much thankfulness that it was cool enough to be wearing flannel shirts, since most of those plants will rip the skin off you given half a chance. But eventually we had cleared an acceptable space all around the rock, and while John piled the cuttings in the back section to act as mulch, I dug up the western end and turned it into garden, only complaining that he was in my way a couple of times.
During all this the sun came out, which was perhaps not altogether opportune -- I hadn't expected to be sweating today. But the deed is done, the poppies are in the ground -- it turned out that there were two very tiny ones hidden under the others, so if they all survive (doubtful) there will be five plants, which gives us a shot at having maybe two or three colors, anyway. ANd there's room for a couple of more perennials -- with full sun!
Not bad for an hour's work or so.