At a little party this summer, a friend said she loved the way things bloomed in "drifts" in our garden. It was a nice compliment because it implied a master plan, instead of survival of the fittest. Ha ha. Well, I plan some in spring and fall-- mostly digging out stuff that's not doing well and dividing other things I like. But the problem is there's no room left to re-plant the overgrown daisies, crocosima and iris, so they get ignored until they've grown into huge matted clumps. I mean, drifts.It's the same with pots if you neglect them long enough. I've had two big ivy topiaries growing for years in clay pots, and when I did a tidy-up yesterday one tipped over and cracked. It was so root bound I had to hammer the shards off the solid ball because there was no soil left in the pot. It annoyed me so much I threw the whole thing in the compost. (I have a mean streak sometimes.) After that chore, I realized a plant in my ceramic water bowl had grown to the point where the plastic pot expanded and it couldn't be lifted out the top. Left there all winter, it would freeze and crack the beautiful bowl. So I called John up from the basement and he attacked the plastic pot with an old Ginsu bread knife he keeps for rough work around the house. Men like that sort of thing.
But it wasn't all violence and destruction around here on Sunday. The rain held off and I got in several hours of work-- things were looking better. October is the time to decide what pots to bother wintering over in the basement stairwell. The olive tree for sure, and a couple of jasmines. The donkey tail plants. The geraniums are beautiful, but after years of trying I know they just die a slow death in the dark warm house.
After all that work, a nice bunch of late flowers for the house. The rain arrived right at dinnertime.
Along with Vino/Tabby/Tigger at the back door...
Was it the roast chicken?
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