We had a row of trees planted along the side of our yard.

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The trees looked too austere all in a row, with nothing else around them. I’m up to my ass in Shasta Daisies and Coneflowers so I did some transplanting.

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In the months since I moved them, the plants are doing extremely well and have been multiplying and flowering like wildfire.

All except one. One of them died.

I planted another one. That one died.

I amended the soil and planted again.

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Tonight as the sun was starting to set on my yard we joked that some ancient evil had been buried in that small spot in the yard.

Then I remembered…something did happen there. That’s where I buried The Creature.

Terrific. Now I apparently need an opossum exorcist. Why is gardening so hard? Martha Stewart never warned me about this.

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I probably gave away a hundred tulip bulbs when I moved our herb garden and dug out the front yard. Despite my best adoption efforts, a few apparently found their way into the compost heap:

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Although my favorites are the dark purple-black Queen of Night tulips, I do love the way the yellow ones appear to become to luminescent when the sun is directly above them:

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