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)