Jaci Dawn

We have had an unseasonably cold April. And a lot of rain. Last year, April was dry, so – you get what you get in the Pacific Northwest. But it is screwing with my gardening.

I lost several bushes over the winter. That makes me sad. My French lavender bit the dust, the curry plant is hanging on by a thread, and my purple wallflower is half alive. I lost some transplants as well, but I haven’t looked at my plots for the garden to know exactly which plants died. I can only tell by the remnants of the plant they were and go, “SIGH.”

It has been difficult to get ahead of the grass and weeds due to the cold rains. However, I have but one flower bed left to dig the grass out of as of tonight. The grass is a foot tall, but I’ve conquered all the other beds so far – so good. Have I ever mentioned how much I despise grass? I’m certain I have. I could replace lawn with wildflowers and ground cover if it weren’t such a daunting project on a 100×100’ lot.

I skipped the big Garden Palooza on the first of April: too soon, too rainy, and so much cancer information going on in my brain. We did, however, make the Clackamas County Spring Garden Fair this past weekend. I only found two pots of anything I wanted but my husband found starts for his tomatoes and peppers. We still need to do a Portland Nursery trip, but I think we’ll skip the annual drive south to Corvallis and assorted nurseries this year. Inflation and health concerns (actually, medical bills concerns).

That doesn’t mean I haven’t been busy! I moved three columbines (Aquilegia) to new locations. They were blocking out my poached egg plants (Limnanthes Douglasii). Last fall, I also moved some of my geraniums and coral bells (huecheras) (those are coming along nicely in their new locations). I still need to thin out the geraniums and huecheras in the front!

Friday there was a post on a local garden group on Facebook for free plants. I scored pink phlox, purple monkshood, and two toad lilies (one of which I gave to a friend). Saturday, I purchased two small pots of bunchberries (Cornus canadensis). Today, I planted most of them in the shade border along the fence. The monkshood prefers full sun and will go into a planter that I can move around out front (it’s toxic, so can’t be where the dog can get to it).

The paper wasps are back and setting up home in the little blue ceramic house they have lived in for the past five years. The native ground nesting bees, wasps, and hover flies have all hatched. Mason bees have hatched and laid eggs. The darling six year old next door tried to give us a humongous slug today (we politely declined).

The crows are nesting in the fir tree immediately adjacent to our property and are quite demanding of peanuts and other treats now that the eggs have hatched. A pair of Bewick’s wrens have nested in the wood pile (they once nested in the garage – not a great idea!). A pair of Dark-eyed Juncos have chosen to nest on the ground amongst the grape hyacinth and peonies that are in the fenced off portion of the flower garden (where the dog can’t reach them). Those have hatched as well. The Lesser goldfinches are nesting nearby somewhere and eating me out of thistle seed.

We missed the arrival of the Turkey Vultures due to the inclement weather (normally around March 15), but the bald eagles have not disappointed us.

Bald eagles. Daily. Three or four. Daily. I remember when we drove them close to extinction. I am 66 and that was 55 years ago. I have never seen them like I am seeing them now, five decades since we sprayed DDT to kill mosquitoes on every road, every stream, every town, every suburb, and every child. I am one of those children.

The DDT truck would come through our neighborhood, and we would run out into the street to follow in the fog of pesticides silently screaming “Hallelujah” as mosquitoes died on our freshly coated skin. We’d beg off from baths and showers in the hopes that the residual poison would continue to protect us for days to come. Meanwhile, we killed fish and fish-eating birds – some to near extinction. 56 years later, we get to see bald eagles soar overhead, a symbol of recovery and survival.I should have had cancer ages ago.