sometimes it comes together

false blue indigo and irises in bloom with columbine on the wane. 

Sucky sucking pests

These sons-of-guns are back. Black leafhoppers. May try sticky traps if they get too ravenous.

image from https://bugguide.net/node/view/657881/bgpage

bradbury's monarda

Garden Truth #1: I get to be imperfect

and so does the garden.

This insight is courtesy of my friend, former roommate and creativity coach, Sarah Sadie, and the realization that if I want a perfect garden I'm going to need to pave over a large part of my yard, invest in some pesticides and herbicides and hire a round-the-clock work crew. The simple truth is there are going to be weeds that grow while I'm looking the other way, or sleeping or busy with other things. There are going to be plants that underperform and pests - like 4-lined plant bugs and japanese beetles - who perform exactly in the way they are supposed to and wreak havoc on a garden.

4-lined plant bug damage on my russian sage. The culprit was caught in the act and dispatched. I may move spiders to a safe location so they can live long and prosper outside of my house, but I do not feel a need to be merciful to 4lpb.

Sarah taught me during our Kaizen Muse Creativity Coaching sessions that perfectionism means we have high expectations of ourselves, are discouraged when things aren't as they "should" be and lose interest in or feign indifference in our projects as a defense against our fear of imperfection.

Perfection is a kind of armor. There's a vulnerability in being imperfect, but also authenticity. A playful attitude can lighten the burden of making a perfect garden, helping us discover the beauty and serendipity that is possible when things don't go as planned and to notice the lovely moments that come to all gardens at some point.

counting blessings

Vita would be disappointed

She "hated the sight of too much mulch" and "loved her borders to be packed." Sissinghurst, Sara Raven

But it is what it is... an attempt (below) to figure out what plants will be happy under this evergreen which manages to create both dry shade ("Dry shade. Dreadful words." Virginia Woolf's Garden, Caroline Zoob) or dry, nearly-full sun. A recent scouting foray in my neighborhood tells me that the daylilies will flourish given time. The hostas are slowly growing. The catmint was sad and had to be removed. I keep my fingers crossed for the false blue indigo. The black-eyed susans, or whatever kind of rudbeckia they are, look like a whole lot of nothing right now, but in late summer they carry the whole bed. The geranium is abloom and, if a varmint quits digging under it, will mayhaps be happy in its home. Sedum (autumn joy) is happy anywhere.  And that just leaves the Bradbury's monarda. We shall see.

Marshmallow

Althea officinals winter-sowed two winters ago (2017) and doing all right in a front-yard raised bed.

weed bed

The weed bed holds many treasures...

some kind of solomon's seal...

phlox that crept in for good measure ...

plantain that I just transplanted into the bed because a good stand of plantain is good for the soul...

catnip...

and stinging nettle, or burn thistle as my father-in-law calls it.

plantain tincture

 Picked, washed and chopped plantain leaves. They're steeping in vodka for the next 6 weeks.

Courage and faith, little chicken hearts

Hinkelhatz peppers planted out and looking small in the great wide world. These are the plants that failed to thrive in the crappy Burpee Eco-friendly seed starting soil. 

carrots

seeded in the big square bed, one row (10') of Scarlet Nantes.

nasturtium

seeded wherever I could find a spot. Seed was saved from last year's nasturtiums. 

be still my bleeding heart

Faithful performer under an evergreen, amongst the tiger lilies and goldenrod. Note the disarray in the background. Surely we can do better...

tulip

... last vestiges of my penchant for tulips. Perhaps this pleasant sight will revive my interest.

gentle glory of a geranium bloom

When all hope that anything will ever bloom and grow is fading fast, the geranium (Geranium sanguineum) offers a promise. Too bad I relocated its chums and they look like they just couldn't possibly and then a squirrel or some such critter had its way with one and so now maybe they really couldn't possibly...

Aronia blooms

As promised, blooms in the third year:) Clearly time to uncage this little fellow,  (Aronia melanocarpa) aka black chokeberry.

you're turning violet, violet.

Been letting the violets (Viola sororia) groweth where they listeth... We'll see.

Heartened by this from Minnesota Wildflowers:

" It is often weedy in gardens and lawns—my own yard is thick with it. I found it difficult to get rid of so caved in and now just let it grow where it will. Who wants a monoculture bluegrass lawn anyway, eh? "

(https://www.minnesotawildflowers.info/flower/common-blue-violet)

potted

Are we sure about this motley assortment? cactus, angel wing begonia, rhubarb, asparagus fern and gangly over-wintered geranium. Most of them sunburned and struggling to adjust to the great outdoors.

zuchini

Seeded one hill in the middle square bed. 

Horehound

In its new home in a raised bed with other mints in the front yard.

Horehound apparently doesn't need much moisture once it's established. And it doesn't need very fertile soil, either. (https://www.gardeningknowhow.com/edible/herbs/horehound/growing-horehound.htm)

spearmint

Mints like lots of water (https://www.planetnatural.com/growing-mint/). I have been operating on the exact opposite principle, which may explain why my mints have a decided failure-to-thrive look. 

See what I mean... I can't even find my lemon balm. 

Spearmint likes partial shade and well-draining, rich, moist soil (https://www.gardeningknowhow.com/edible/herbs/mint/growing-spearmint-plants.htm). 

boneset

winter-sown and now in situ in a raised bed in the front yard.

Bergamot

Winter-sown bergamot in it's new home in a front-yard raised bed.

lupine ... one more try

Winter-sowed lupine now in one of the front garden beds.