The most impressive of the spring flowers thus far are these silver white ruffly Iris. The pictures don't do them justice. I hang around them and drink in their fabulousness.
To get this kind of performance, I had to dig them up and replant them and then wait a year. It's something I may do only the once. They must be dead-headed daily to maintain all that beauty.
I've been eating so much wild asparagus that it's a wonder my skin hasn't turned green. I understand it is not easy being green.
The best asparagus turned out to be not the existing patch in the garden, but bunches here and there planted by birds that have snacked on the red seeds. So much for the gardening advice to dig a big trench, add manure and then fill it in as the little ferns grow. I did that once at the farm. I tilled so deep that the Troy Bilt tiller was nearly lost.
I long for the wonderful soil I had there at the farm, lovely LOAM. I'm sure no one wants to hear me whine about the gooey soil I am coping with after all these rains. Sob.
I finally just "mudded" the plants in the garden, giving each tomato, pepper and lettuce a bit of my precious compost from last year's pile. Under the crusted soil is goo.
I miss friable soil but at least have the Perma bed on the mostly clay part of the garden.
The perennials are saving the day by coming up rain or shine. I have made a discovery that the difference between having more children than can be properly cared for and having too many flowers is the older children can help out with the youngest ones. Flowers have absolutely no desire to pitch in and lend a hand, because they don't have any. Thus I am over-extended.
The Wegelia has been reliably showy, but then wants to get a drastic trim so it will bloom again next spring. That is a big chore, but worth it. Now I can sit with morning coffee and watch the humming birds visit the blooms. Rich, beyond my wildest dreams.
Each day brings more blooms. The peonies are next, so I have the camera at the ready.
