I’m weird. Anyone who knows me will confirm that. Just ask my son.
I planted all summer. ALL SUMMER. When it was 102, 103, 104, I was out there, moving transplants of Zexmenia (Wedelia texana),
Firebush (Hamelia patens),
Purple Coneflower (Echinacea purpurea) and Twisted-leaf Yucca (Yucca rupicola), to name a few.
I moved established plants like Bamboo Muhly (Muhlenbergia dumosa), the little dude under the Goldeneye,
and Globe Mallow (Sphaeralcea ambigua), among others.
I bought plants, usually in gallon pots, some of which did not survive. Others are doing well, like Variegated Flax Lily (Dianella tasmanica ‘Variegata’),
and Soft Leaf Yucca (Yucca recurvifolia).
I was obsessed with my garden this past summer. It was a tough summer, depressing if you think about what the extreme heat and drought might actually indicate. Still, I was not deterred and indeed, I am hopeful. I came home from work (which is part-time, but outdoors), and planted. I mulched and hand-watered when necessary–obviously that was a lot. I wore a funny hat, drank gallons of water and slathered sunscreen. I took lots of showers.
I gardened. All summer.
Now, as we enjoy cooler days and nights, I’ve ceased my planting frenzy.
I think that I am ‘resting on my laurels’. Maybe I’m just tired.
I’m fortunate: I don’t have deer, I have reasonably decent soil and I believe in compost and mulch. I have a patient husband and son. Austin hasn’t instituted Stage 3 water restrictions. Yet.
I’m enjoying my garden, which I know, “…is never so good as it will be next year.” (Thomas Cooper)