Grave Results

"Dig 9 inches from the drip-line," the instructions said.

What they didn't say was what to do when the rose was sitting over a drain, wedged between a fence and a 1950's concrete patio, in Oregon clay.   About three-fourths of the way getting the rose out of the ground, the shovel handle snapped.  Using a combination of trowels and my hands, I managed to get the rose out of the ground.  I wouldn't call what was underneath a ball, exactly; more like the sort of snag that one finds by the edge of rivers.

With any luck I didn't kill it.  Now all I hope was that I didn't do the ornamental straw a huge favor by digging it up, shaking as much dirt loose from its roots as I could, and using the dirt to cover up the rose's roots.   Otherwise in about three months I'll have foreign weeds poking up along a dead rose cane.<

Gardening Rambo-style

It's true, we're going to have to destroy this flower bed in order to save it.  If you look closely, you can see where bulbs are poking up around the rose.  When we move the rose to its new home, we're going to have to dig up the bulbs, too.  

I won't miss the small river rocks someone cluttered up the bed with -- they make a poor retaining wall as plants just grow over and around them and dirt eventually washes by them.  It wouldn't be a problem if the rocks had been mortared together, or placed in front of a more effective dirt barrier.  Although, given the track record of the previous occupants, we'd probably have an ugly concrete mess to deal with.  

Wishing Well

There wasn't a dead squirrel in the water this morning -- at least I didn't see one went I took this picture.  As you may infer, the clay content of our soil fifteen inches below ground is quite high.  

The Rose Pit

Area C1 -- Managed to find out a bit about transplanting roses.  This requires digging a pit roughly two feet by four feet to receive the transplant.  On the plus side, all that digging has removed a large portion of the tropical grass straw planted by a previous occupant.  On the minus side, I'm pretty sure all the water that I put into the pit to losen up the ground is still there.  

Maybe a wretched squirrel will drown in it and my irises can grow in piece. 

Culling

I visited my folks' house today. Much of the social space in their yard is deck. I like what they've done with some well placed planters. When I got home to our yard, I was energized (OK, and the sun was out and it wasn't freezing).

Area C1 -- Clipped back the dead ornamental grass straw clumps to prepare the bed for the rose bush from Area A1. By the end of the week, we should have three roses in a row along the east fence instead of rose, weeds, rose, funny looking ornamental grass, rose, dead rhubarb.

Area A2 -- Swept out the dirt from when the patio was flooded with some help(?) with The Child. Cleared some of the more odious detritus and managed to reclaim some of the patio space.

On a whim, I browsed through a magazine at my folks' house that promised on its front cover to give tips on how to make your backyard like an outdoor room.

I flipped the magazine's pages, fished around for the table of contents, and finally found the article. As near as I could tell, their approach was to take a $600,000 plot of land and spend $50,000 in landscaping, granite, a fountain, and a giant matte black stainless steel globe.

Be Gone From My Sight

Area D-1. I don't know what it was. I only know that it put out a feeble spray of yellow flowers for a week once a year. So I pulled it out with my bare hands. It was easy to do because most of the roots had rotted.

I look through magazines like Architectural Digest and Better Homes and Gardens and I see the clever patio arrangements: the pathways in different hues of gravel, the basalt spires with cascades of water, the hidden stone statues; the red velvet chairs, the tables with white linens, the chandeliers, the little candles and elegant flower arrangements; the tea and scones presented on a white service, and the hidden outdoor speakers playing Edith Piaf.

But not in my back yard.

The First To be Smited

Area E-4. Whoever lived in our house before us tried to fill the backyard with trees. It was an abortive attempt, and we find evidence of past failures in the form of small sinkholes which line up with still existing shrubbery. When we first moved in, we thought this Japanese Maple was dead; alas, it had merely been underwatered, and showed signs of lingering life when the rains returned.

Unfortunately, it had a case of maple root rot. And it was badly placed, floating in the middle of an otherwise clear space of lawn. It looked half-dead most of the time, it didn't really match the ornimental cherry tree or tie into the tool shed. And it required mowing around.

It filled me with discontent. So I sawed it down. The yard looks better all ready.

Manifesto

Now is Summer made dreary Winter by this Garden of Discontent. . .

Well, OK. It's not really a garden, it's the back yard. But I'm still filled with discontent.