Ah spring, birthdays & cannas
What’s new? Well, for one thing it’s springtime. And despite a long drought last year, my flowering plants have survived and flourished so far. Some do look battered but unbowed.
Mother Nature this past year was cruel with the drought. But perhaps our blessedly mild winter compensated. Prettier than ever, my PJM rhododendrons (which look like azaleas) put on a great purple show. They bloom just after the forsythias. They are hardy as nails. I recommend them highly.
Another plant fun to grow is the old-fashioned canna lily. Some varieties can get taller than I can reach. And it apparently takes huge effort to keep them from coming back the following year, not that anyone would wish that fate.
But a few years ago, I thought one flower bed where many of my big old orangey cannas had grown had finally done them in. You see, it‘s better to dig them up after frost each fall, and store the bulbs for replanting the following spring. I had done just that for several years, amassing more bulbs than I could re-plant. They multiply that easily.
Then I got lazy and left them alone one fall. They still came back unaided for another year or so. But then neglect and age and a sore back ensued, and my flower bed became covered with English ivy. That stuff smothers just about everything it covers.
Last summer, feeling rejuvenated by some weight loss from my person, plus four new heart stents, I became active again and pulled up all the English ivy in that bed. Mind you, it had been at least a few years since any canna there had shown any sign of life. Lo and behold, shortly after the ivy’s removal, a few sprouts of the old orangey cannas started growing , reaching over six feet tall before frost last fall.
I dug their bulbs afterward, stored them and then replanted them a week or so ago. I’ll bet they’ll do well this season, just as they had way back when. Ah, springtime, and the joy of flower gardening.
But it’s not--to continue this column’s unaccustomed light and frilly tone--quite so joyful as something else that happened to me and Carole Lee at the end of March this spring. You see, I turned 75 about the same time son Bob turned 50 and son-in-law Al from Denver turned 50-something also.
So quite unbeknownst to us elders, oldest son Bud arranged to corral them all, plus their families, here for a surprise party--three children and spouses, five grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. They had all hid in Bud’s garage..
We drove over there on a beautiful sunny afternoon, blithely dumb as a post, and then pulled into the driveway upon which they all ran out to greet us, hollering wildly. I’ll not burden you further, but it was one glorious and improbable family reunion. Miracles do happen, large and small. Keep the faith.
I guess that goes for Democrats also. They have, however, been sorely tested this election season, and worse may be on the way, unless Hillary suddenly regains her senses and gives up her quest. But wait. Obama put his foot in his mouth and could do so again.
He still seems ahead, but not for long if he keeps mouthing things like, “My friends, we live in the greatest nation in the history of the world. I hope you’ll join me as we try to change it.” And he should clearly stay out of bowling alleys. And never again say any if us yokels bitterly “cling” to whatever quaint traditions we hold dear.
Beyond politics, change is actually happening, I hear, along the border with Mexico. We’re going to erect that fence, after all, it seems. That’s good, although you wouldn’t think so to hear the environmentalists tell it. The fence will cross some spots that had been declared terribly sensitive.
That poor, delicate ecosystem down there on the south edge of Arizona and New Mexico--the preservationists have a point. For there you can see miles and miles of exquisite and riveting...nothing. No suburban sprawl, no traffic congestion, just nothing, except perhaps a chance sighting of human immigrants striving to become illegal.
Better should the plight of truly endangered wildlife species elsewhere--ever so much more varied and abundant--be of genuine concern If we don’t soon come to our senses--after the elections next fall, of course--we’ll start seeing jungles teeming with true environmental treasures being plowed under to provide us with biofuels.
The greens seem to be all for it, and too bad about the survival of assorted monkeys and even my exotic canna lilies.
Mother Nature this past year was cruel with the drought. But perhaps our blessedly mild winter compensated. Prettier than ever, my PJM rhododendrons (which look like azaleas) put on a great purple show. They bloom just after the forsythias. They are hardy as nails. I recommend them highly.
Another plant fun to grow is the old-fashioned canna lily. Some varieties can get taller than I can reach. And it apparently takes huge effort to keep them from coming back the following year, not that anyone would wish that fate.
But a few years ago, I thought one flower bed where many of my big old orangey cannas had grown had finally done them in. You see, it‘s better to dig them up after frost each fall, and store the bulbs for replanting the following spring. I had done just that for several years, amassing more bulbs than I could re-plant. They multiply that easily.
Then I got lazy and left them alone one fall. They still came back unaided for another year or so. But then neglect and age and a sore back ensued, and my flower bed became covered with English ivy. That stuff smothers just about everything it covers.
Last summer, feeling rejuvenated by some weight loss from my person, plus four new heart stents, I became active again and pulled up all the English ivy in that bed. Mind you, it had been at least a few years since any canna there had shown any sign of life. Lo and behold, shortly after the ivy’s removal, a few sprouts of the old orangey cannas started growing , reaching over six feet tall before frost last fall.
I dug their bulbs afterward, stored them and then replanted them a week or so ago. I’ll bet they’ll do well this season, just as they had way back when. Ah, springtime, and the joy of flower gardening.
But it’s not--to continue this column’s unaccustomed light and frilly tone--quite so joyful as something else that happened to me and Carole Lee at the end of March this spring. You see, I turned 75 about the same time son Bob turned 50 and son-in-law Al from Denver turned 50-something also.
So quite unbeknownst to us elders, oldest son Bud arranged to corral them all, plus their families, here for a surprise party--three children and spouses, five grandchildren and three great-grandchildren. They had all hid in Bud’s garage..
We drove over there on a beautiful sunny afternoon, blithely dumb as a post, and then pulled into the driveway upon which they all ran out to greet us, hollering wildly. I’ll not burden you further, but it was one glorious and improbable family reunion. Miracles do happen, large and small. Keep the faith.
I guess that goes for Democrats also. They have, however, been sorely tested this election season, and worse may be on the way, unless Hillary suddenly regains her senses and gives up her quest. But wait. Obama put his foot in his mouth and could do so again.
He still seems ahead, but not for long if he keeps mouthing things like, “My friends, we live in the greatest nation in the history of the world. I hope you’ll join me as we try to change it.” And he should clearly stay out of bowling alleys. And never again say any if us yokels bitterly “cling” to whatever quaint traditions we hold dear.
Beyond politics, change is actually happening, I hear, along the border with Mexico. We’re going to erect that fence, after all, it seems. That’s good, although you wouldn’t think so to hear the environmentalists tell it. The fence will cross some spots that had been declared terribly sensitive.
That poor, delicate ecosystem down there on the south edge of Arizona and New Mexico--the preservationists have a point. For there you can see miles and miles of exquisite and riveting...nothing. No suburban sprawl, no traffic congestion, just nothing, except perhaps a chance sighting of human immigrants striving to become illegal.
Better should the plight of truly endangered wildlife species elsewhere--ever so much more varied and abundant--be of genuine concern If we don’t soon come to our senses--after the elections next fall, of course--we’ll start seeing jungles teeming with true environmental treasures being plowed under to provide us with biofuels.
The greens seem to be all for it, and too bad about the survival of assorted monkeys and even my exotic canna lilies.
posted by Ben Blankenship at
3:29 PM
