But not a pilgrim in sight. It's been a frustrating mix of too rainy and too busy at the old McGarden these days. I still have not finished doing my winter clean-up, which means my clematis is all wound into the dead brush and my coneflowers are choking on mulch and I have so many dandelions I can hear them roaring late at night. The yard desperately needs core aeration and overseeding but I don't see it getting done any time soon. My neighbor pays a service to do her winter clean-up and every year I privately poke fun at her, but the joke's on me because her borders are lovely and mine look... well, casual is a polite way to put it.
I hope to get out there and fix up the back 40* later next week, after stressful meeting with dissertation committee is firmly behind me. In the meantime, life marches on...
Daffies, and spiky tulips! Don't ask me what varieties any of my bulbs are. I care deeply and obsessively about the IDs of the "real" plants, but the spring bulbs and annuals are lucky if I bother remembering the genus. OK, I exaggerate a wee bit, but not much.
My Dicentra is underwhelming but bear in mind it's been moved, trampled, broken, or otherwise abused every year I've had it. I'm happy with whatever I get.
Pulmonaria something. What was that about obsessive taxonomy? It's written down somewhere, I'm sure.
Tradescantia zebrina 'Red Hill', just a baby a few months ago, surprised me by blooming all over the place. Always a pleasant surprise when houseplants bloom; I only grow them for the foliage.
Foley checks out the perimeter at the in-laws' place in Michigan.
*more like 40 yards than 40 acres