(… and if you don’t know what the title’s about, here ’tis.)
I’m housebound today awaiting a delivery that requires what they still anachronistically call a “signature,” even though in these crazy COVID days it merely means the driver is required to catch a distant glimpse of whatever small portion of my face I’m allowed to reveal in her presence (as shockingly as a Victorian lady might reveal a glimpse of her stockinged ankle).
FedEx being FedEx, they’ll probably turn up around sunset. In the meantime the dispatchers and customer service mavens will have absolutely zero idea where the shipment is. Tasmania? Timbuctoo? Lying in a ditch somewhere half a mile from my house? Unlike the more efficient organization that sends forth the Brown Truck of Happiness, FedEx knows not where its trucks and drivers go after they leave the warehouse.
Still, I should be grateful that FedEx not only reaches these far reaches of the PNW, but sometimes, miraculously, manages to get two trucks a day up this tiny dead-end street that doesn’t even appear in their databases. Even the Brown Truck of Happiness people can’t manage that. And I am grateful. I am. Can I be headbanging and grateful at the same time?
Also, the driver of that second truck, the one I await today, is really nice, as are the people shipping me nice stuff. So yes, I’m going with grateful.
But all that is merely to say that my housebound status gives me a chance to do a little extra blogging. You get a “lite” blog today, and depending on how things go, I may prep another blog or two, then start one of the blogosauri we talked about last time.
Several readers have asked for more pix of Ye Olde Wreck, more recently known as Mo Saoirce Hermitage. Here you go.
We have the first rhodie of spring!
It seems a little late, but the year has been like that. The daffodils and skunk cabbage that usually harbinge* spring in February staggered out of earth around April. The colossal, mutant PNW camellia bushes that usually burst with blossoms in March also chose April this year, and late April, at that.
None of its spectacular color displays yet, but those may come later. Meanwhile, look at all that green, green, green greenery. I tell you, the PNW is so gorgeous it (almost) makes those nine months of rain worthwhile.
Although most blooms made late appearances, this one set of plants decided suddenly to thrive.
I planted those purple puppies two years ago from 4″ pots. They survived. Even grew a bit. But until about six weeks ago, meh. Then … it was like a floral detonation. The plants themselves doubled or tripled in size and at the same time produced huge crops of blooms. All over town, those same plants, whatever they are, did the same thing while most other flowering flora sulked.
Glorious work, you flowers!
Now, can somebody tell me what they are? I diligently stuck several of their little plastic marker-tags in the ground so I’d know, but either something carried the tags off or they’re buried deep within foliage that I’m not going to disturb. I’d like to get some more of these beauties.
And speaking of the grass being riz …
It’s as much as 18″ tall on my lot across the street even though it was cut only a couple of weeks ago. Neighbor J mowed a portion of it yesterday after I gave her some lovely big end tables I have no space for. But the grass has most definitely riz. Time to track down The Wandering Monk again.
Searching for some of the rock garden and sedum links above, I was reminded of what a depressing, angry, fearful, authoritarian, propaganda-driven spring we suffered through last year. I’ve never been much of a gardener and probably never will be, but I’m reminded now of how flowers and other plantings helped me keep my head on straight in 2020 while so many others were losing theirs.
I hope your spring 2021 is better in all ways.
That’s it for now. But after a break in the sunshine, I’ll continue prepping future blogs for you.
* I don’t care if it’s not an actual word. If something’s a harbinger, then surely it can harbinge.