A garden is like a wilderness area: what matters is not the intensity of human use, but the fact that it is there in the first place. Often the occasional, reaffirming glance while walking in or out of the house is enough. The underlying significance of my garden (or anyone’s garden, for that matter) is that the personal, symbolic connections are deeper and more critical than the garden’s mere epidermal appearance. ~Robert L. Thayer, Jr. “Personal Dreams and Pagan Rituals”
5 July 2017. It is too hot to type my notes in the garden shed so I’ve retreated to my basement office at home. I worked at the garden from 9 til noon. Oppressive heat index; temp in low 90s and high humidity, sunny, no breeze; tough working conditions—plus the knee in my old Cabela pants tore through. I began the morning by attacking Japanese beetles, convincing dozens to take a swim in my yogurt container half full of soapy water. They had done some serious damage to the big white rose bush in the NW corner; also many spread across the shrub rose bushes in beds “G” and “H.” Fortunately, there were only a few stragglers in the hollyhocks.
A lot of tiny sedum appearing in the gravel walkways, particularly the west end. I did a lot of hoeing. The ground is hard but I’m hoping the hot, dry conditions will make it more difficult for them to rebound after the hoe goes through their area. Those sedum are remarkably resilient.
11 July. 11:30 am; 80F, 77% humidity; virtually no breeze; overcast (thank goodness—with the high humidity, any further rise in temp would make it difficult working conditions). Doing miscellaneous tasks since 8:00. Because of the soft lighting conditions due to the cloud cover, my Canon and I shot a lot of photographs, particularly concentrating on daylilies and flying insects. Took a series of photos of a Monarch and a green dragonfly from long distance. I hope some of them turn out.
I continued to work on the gravel walkways. The sedum/purslane is relentless. I hoe a stretch one day and two days later more baby plants appear. The walkways must have millions of seeds waiting to germinate, but for a moment the “B/L” and “M” walkways are fairly clean and raked. I also raked the “D/E/F” walkways and trimmed back several clumps of catmint along the “L” bed walkway. Hated to cut back the catmint because it provided such an attractive clump of blue, but the flowers were becoming sparse and the daylilies are now the dominant actor. It has taken two years, but the daylily beds are now a riot of blooms.
I noticed this morning that the big hydrangea in the “H” bed has started to bloom, as has the nearby red twig dogwood. In many respects the garden is at its prime right now. It is beginning to have the richness of diverse colors and plants that I associate with an English garden. Still many noticeable holes and empty areas, but we’re making progress.
12 July. 10:55 am; 83F, 71% humidity; overcast (thank goodness), no breeze; no problem working up a sweat. Actually, I’ve only been working in the garden for about 45 minutes. Had a meeting at 9:30 with the Provost to discuss office space for retired faculty. My computer and office stuff are now in Peterson, but we discussed possibility of having my office in the garden shed. For that to happen, the shed needs internet access and it must be insulated so it can be heated in the winter–though I must admit that on a day like today, it would also be nice to have air conditioning. I have the fan blowing on me, and I’m still sweating. I often wonder how I survived those summers in southern Kansas in the years before my Dad purchased that large box fan from Western Auto. But at least on our hill with our southern exposure, we usually had a breeze. I can remember lying in my bed at night, my head hanging over the side of the bed, right next to the window, trying to catch any hint of cooler air.
As happens on most July days, I started the morning with a walk around the garden, harvesting Japanese beetles. This morning produced several hundred. Yesterday I had thought we might be on the downhill slope, but this morning I discovered several large clusters of beetles on the rose bushes’ buds, flowers, and foliage. One benefit of their clustering inclinations is that it makes it easier to capture a dozen or more with one sweep of the hand. There were just a couple of beetles on the basil plants (which have been attracting a steady stream of visitors the past week).
I Just read in The Meaning of Gardens that “Gardens provide food and sustenance, soothe and delight the senses, display the miraculous cycles of nature, and occasionally exhibit the power, aesthetic tastes and megalomania of the ruling class, the aristocracy, and the wealthy.” (Arnold R. Alanen, “Immigrant Gardens on a Mining Frontier”) I’m not sure that today, spending so much of my time trying to limit the impact of these invasive beetles, I feel the garden is delighting my senses or providing me much sustenance. But it certainly does confirm for me how little I understand about the mysterious “cycles of nature.”
The complete text of the Summer Kalendar 2018 can be read by opening this link to a pdf copy.