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


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.


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.


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.


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:


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: