I love the golden green of this plant. It grows wide and not tall. And seems to be sheltering the tiny little bluets. This is in the front of the house garden. An impossible area. The soil is very dense. Heavy. And this side of the house is North and therefore freezes first and therefore thaws last. So...a tough area. Daffodils are just blooming here while in back the peonies are ready to flower.
When I began gardening here in 1992- I wanted the plants I had left behind in Chicago. Thinking Chicago was cold in winter so- would be like that here in Maine. What a misconception.
Chicago has great soil. Maine was scraped clean by moving glaciers back in the early early days on Earth. All Maine's good topsoil is in New Jersey. And my 4 acres here in Maine is populated, heavily, by white pines. The tall trees used to make masts for the New England whaling ships. Trees that acidify the soil and make it sterile.
So....not like Chicago where summer is regularly 100% humidity and 104 degrees. My tomatoes- fantastic. Reminding me of Georgia. Also very very hot and oh, so humid. I wouldn't be able to breathe in either place these days.
My Summer petunias etc. are still coming inside overnight and then out on the porch for the day. Last night was the first possible night they could have stayed outside. But I carried them inside anyway. I have miscalculated before. Someday this week I will plant up my three outside containers.
Tomorrow we are driving north and west. I have an in person doctor's appointment. For my lungs. My annual visit. Last year we did it by phone. And we could have done it by phone again this year but at the very last moment- I chose in office. I don't know why. I will regret it all the way there........
2 comments:
one of my favorite places on earth was formed at the end of the glacier that scraped your land: I have walked the beaches of Shelter Island, paved with Maine-born cobbles
I'm happy that our cobbles are being enjoyed elsewhere. There is something about the barren landscape up here in Maine.
We used to drive -every Sunday in good weather- to the edge of the Earth it seemed. The huge rocks and then the ocean and nothing between us and Europe. It's awesome. It's lonely. It's Maine.
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