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Gardeners and their Gardens

With the wretchedly hot weather cooling down just a bit, I’ve finally been able to enjoy being outdoors again. In fact, my back deck has become the go-to place for an iced cold glass of lemonade, a pre-dinner snack and a good book. While it’s always been a relaxing space, this year it has become even more inviting because of the sound of gently flowing water and the soft, sweet fragrance of the moonflowers that have climbed to the top of the deck.

I’m embarrassed to admit this, but the first year we planted our patch of prairie in the front yard I secretly hated it. It just looked messy to me, especially with so many clumps of unruly grasses sticking up everywhere. The few scraggly flowers certainly didn’t help. Every time I looked at it, I regretted that we had put this eyesore in our front yard for everyone to see. Six years later, my regret is that our prairie is so small; I wish it covered the entire yard. Over the years, the community of plants has matured and so have I. I came to understand the functions of ornamental grasses in the landscape and to appreciate their unique beauties.

A friend and I were commiserating about our gardens over coffee the other day. I admitted that mine was quickly heading towards the late season blues and she confessed, with a tinge of embarrassment,  that she just gives up on gardening every year around this time. 

The Staff at Embassy Landscape Group

wish you a 

Happy and Safe

4th of July

The cicada Armageddon has ended here. The endless droning has subsided.  I can now walk across my yard without being attacked by miniature flying torpedoes or crunching a plethora of brown carcasses with each step.

I have definitely been enjoying the quiet and have been looking forward to a time of peace in the garden.  And then my son-in-law, the arborist, stopped by and announced, “The Japanese beetles are here, and it looks like a bad year.”  I really wanted him to be wrong, but, as usual, it appears that he was right.  They are here  –  and they are hungry.

My youngest granddaughter is an absolute ball of fire. She has boundless energy, endless curiosity and the attention span of a gnat. She seems to be everywhere at once, talking a blue streak, except when we are in the garden and the butterflies flutter in. Then she is mesmerized, standing quiet and still as a statue hoping a butterfly will land on her like it did at the butterfly house ages ago. Watching the expression on her face as she patiently stands, wishing for one to find her, makes me determined to create a butterfly paradise so, just maybe, she might get that wish. 

I had an eye opening experience yesterday. 

Every day I sit by a huge window overlooking my back garden to drink my morning tea. While I sat enjoying the view, a bevy of butterflies swooped into the yard to begin their daily feeding frenzy. They come almost every morning at about the same time for an extended meal and then pop in and out the rest of the day. 

I fell in love with prickly pear cactus six years ago on a trip to the desert Southwest —. not as a plant to grow, but as a food to eat!  It was delicious in salads  and made lemonade taste so much better. I ordered it at every restaurant we ate at. When we got home, I found some pads for sale and immediately snatched them up with the intent of recreating those culinary delights I’d had. After a couple of days of intently studying the increasingly limp cactus pieces, I realized that I had absolutely no clue what to do with them, so they wound up in the composting bin and I moved on.