The Year of Excavation
I told myself that if I got an hour to work in the garden today, I'd be satisfied.
And I did. I spent the afternoon digging out the spiderwort and splitting the hostas, then dragged each of the plants down to the curb for whoever might want them.
I told the neighbor: This will be my year of excavation. The flower beds have come a long way over the past few years. The Angelina stonecrop has finally filled in the space between the coral bells and chrysanthemums, and the phlox has found a toehold somewhere in the middle, where it can stretch its pink and purple flowers to the sky for a week or two before creeping back toward the earth. But other plants have clearly overstayed their welcome.
The spiderwort is one: It has beautiful light blue flowers in late spring but looks ratty the rest of the year. The evening primrose is another: It's been threatening to overtake not only the adjoining barberry bush but the entire yard. That's next on my list.
I doubt I'll get the time or inclination to plant anything new. Not this year, anyway. Maybe when the boys are a little older and I don't have to chase after the baby every two seconds, I can fill in the empty places. But right now, I'm OK with being open to possibilities.