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$50.

That’s what it cost to take Harvey to the “beauty salon” today. He’s lighter and my wallet is lighter.

This was precipitated by how miserable Harvey was last summer when we had hot weather. This year, we decided he needed to be shaved before we rolled into summer. And so I made some phone calls to local dog groomers and checked them off my list. OK, there were only two that I called and it wasn’t too hard.

Groomer #1 was professional sounding and booked out several weeks in advance.

Groomer #2 didn’t know what an English Setter was.

My veterinarian recommended Groomer #1 (why didn’t I call them first? I have no idea. Maybe so I’d talk to Groomer #2 who did not have a clue?)

Several weeks later, it was time for Harvey’s first professional hair cut.

I don’t even get my hair cut professionally. I don’t cut my hair except to trim it, but that’s another story.

I took Harvey to a very unassuming little house tucked in behind an auto shop, right next to the railroad: Kellie’s Dog House. She doesn’t have a web site: she’s too busy grooming dogs, but she does have a Facebook page.

She also did a stand-out job and we will be return business for her.

I had her leave the “feathers” in his tail and his ears went untouched. Otherwise, about ten pounds of fluffy dog hair disappeared. He looks more like a Dalmatian than a Setter now.

Except for the tail.

He’s wondering if that cat will come sit on the top rail of the fence to check out his new ‘do. Here Kitty, Kitty, Kitty.

That cat is too smart to make an appearance when the dog is that close.

Harvey is so happy to be cooler now.

 

Darn. My wallet is lighter this evening because I saw two perennials I just “had” to have for my garden. It’s an addiction.

First off, I want to say I did not intend to buy any plants this weekend unless I stumbled upon some sunflower starts. For some vague reason, my sunflowers are not coming up (again) this year. I had the same problem last year but I thought it was because I came home on Memorial Day weekend and I didn’t get any sunflower seeds in the ground until then. This year, I have planted sunflower seeds several times and nothing comes up. Either it’s too cold, the birds are getting my seeds, or…?

I only browsed the plants at the grocery store because I was looking for possible sunflower starts.

And this caught me eye. It’s beautiful. It’s a perennial. It was $6.99.

It’s a mullein and it is going right here, next to where the sunflowers are supposed to be coming up in my front yard. I lost the little plastic name tag, but I *think* it is verbascum ‘Southern Charm’. It’s beautiful.

I then stopped at the Farmer’s Market. I was looking for the hazelnut mulch stand. Yes, it is time to start buying bags of hazelnut mulch and finish mulching all my flower beds. I figure if I buy 5 bags at a time, I can manage this little project of mulching my garden all by myself.

I was only two booths in when I saw this.

Honeysuckle. A gallon plant for $10. I love honeysuckle. One of the first rentals Don and I lived in had an old honeysuckle vine over the front door. They smell amazing and hummingbirds love them.

I have looked for one off and on over the years. Usually, I haven’t had the money to buy one. Or I simply can’t find a mature-enough plant to make the purchase worthwhile. But there it was: a ten dollar mature honeysuckle.

Dang.

I picked up the hazelnut mulch, too.

Then I came home and hoped it wouldn’t rain.

I edged and weeded and dug and planted.

I planted my fothergilla in the back yard. I mulched it, too.

This is the flower bed I worked on Saturday. Too bad the Shasta daisies are not yet in bloom and the Oregon grape is past. I don’t know about that Oregon grape: I planted it expecting low shrubs and I got these huge commercial variety of Oregon Grape that seem to go viral. They are over 6′ tall!!

It’s peony season in my garden. Just a few of them are in the island flower bed. I have a lot more in peripheral flower beds.

This double-peony is stuck up against the garage. The photo doesn’t do it justice: it’s a soft purple shade that somehow translated to pink in the camera.

This double bloom translated nicely to the camera.

A single pink peony.

I have yellow, pink, burgundy, red, salmon, red-and yellow, single, double, triple, plain and tree peonies.

One can never get enough of peonies.

Except they are done blooming mid-June.

Another plant I love. I transplanted a few wild foxgloves (pink and white) to my garden. I love the wild ones, not the commercial ones. Foxglove is a biennial, meaning that the first year it is only a lot of leaves, but it blooms the second year and thereafter. It’s a great cut flower, will bloom all summer if you do cut it, and the bees go nuts over it.

Idaho blue-eyed grass. No, I do not know why it is named “Idaho” because it is an Oregon native as well. Not a great cut flower: the blooms are there in the day and close up at eventide. But the fragile beauty that is blue-eyed grass is appealing to me.

And, yes, I really have an old hanging basket frame turned upside down over the plant. That way, I know where it is. Doesn’t everyone mark their plants like that?

This lovely insect (according to my Audubon Field Guide to Insects & Spiders) is a Cottonwood Twig Borer (Oberea quadricallosa). I included the scientific name because when I tried to do an online search for the same insect, the Cottonwood Tree Borer came up with several different scientific names.

Whatever: it doesn’t harm peonies. It’s just tucking in for the night.

A dead wasp in the peony bud. No doubt there is a spider behind a petal.

Spider: 1. Wasp:0

A blood-red Lady Beetle. No doubt she is looking for an aphid snack.

Are there male Lady Beetles?

That was a rhetorical question.

I love the seed pods of my tree peonies. The bloom is past and the petals have fallen: this funny little item is what is left. They harden when they dry out.

All I can tell you about this critter is that it is a moth. It is most likely a bark moth of some sort. It is probably not a beneficial insect, but it is trapped inside my house and not in the litter under the rhododendrons. I usually find bark moths under the rhodies where their caterpillars have no doubt been wreaking some sort of havoc. I bear them no grudge since any apparent damage they do is minor.

At least as far as I can tell.

Last night, just as the sun began to set, the light graced the trees with a yellowish tinge. The dark clouds over Vancouver, Washington, were just beginning to build up and slowly roll southward. Shortly after all turned dark and we were settled down in front of the television to watch a movie, that cloud rolled over Portland and dumped an inch of rain in an hour’s time.

It dried out again today and I spent the afternoon digging, edging and mulching. It’s a full-time job that I love.

The real reason I am posting tonight is because I want to remember the names of the plants I planted today. I’m terrible at remembering the names of plants!I often revert back to my blog and the archives to look up the names of plants. After awhile, it comes naturally, but the initial memorization is not easy for me.

It is why I carry several field guides with me every time we go out into the woods or desert:I look up the same thing until I have it memorized, and then I look it up because I want to reinforce to myself that I know what it is.

We made our annual drive up the Willamette Valley yesterday to visit our favorite garden nurseries. We started at Nichol’s Garden Nursery where we have purchased garden seeds for over 30 years, usually by mail but sometimes by making the drive to Albany. Nichols is nested up against ATI Wah Chang, in a unique clash of commercial and concrete and the peaceful hazel-nut mulch lined paths through the herb beds behind the little red house that serves as the store for Nichol’s.

Rose Marie Nichols McGee was signing books. She’s a delightful soul and while she wouldn’t recognize me from one year to the next, I always find her warm and genuine. And quite knowledgeable. I pointed to an unique purple plant growing in her beds and she said, “Cerinthe retorta. We don’t sell the plant, but you’ll find the seeds indoors.” I bought the seeds.

We spent $24 at Nichols before heading on over to our other Albany favorite, Garland’s Nursery. They have one of the largest Bonsai collections around. They also usually have a lot of gift items and a plethora of plants I simply cannot live without. For whatever reasons, this year we left Garland’s empty-handed. We saw some interesting ideas, but nothing that jumped out at us, begging to be purchased. We’re not in the market for large shrubs or trees at the moment, and they have a wonderful collection of those.

We turned around and headed back south on I-5 until 99E splits from the freeway. Then we meandered down 99E to Woodburn and Al’s Garden Center. They also have a collection of unique and interesting gift items, acres of trees, and a very small Bonsai collection. They are outstanding for perennials. I spent more money at Al’s, but I didn’t buy the beautiful clematis I’ve been dreaming of. I didn’t have enough money for that.

Today I planted my plants.

I placed the Erysimum ‘Bowles’ Mauve in my prayer garden where it can grow tall and spread out. (Open the link to see what it is going to look like when it matures – it’s a beautiful purple flower!)

This Armeria “joystick lilac” is called “Bellarine Lilac”. I purchased one a few years ago that is a different color and is thriving in the same general area as the new one:

It makes an excellent cut flower and that was my goal this weekend: to add to the perennials that I can cut and cut and cut to enjoy indoors all summer long.

This is one of two salvias I fell in love with at Al’s. Don actually picked them out. “May Night Meadow Sage” or Salvia nemarosa ‘Mainacht’. Blooms May- August as long as you keep it “dead-headed.

I could scarcely not notice the strong sage aroma from this beauty as I put it in the ground: ‘Hot Lips’ Sage (Salvia ‘Hot Lips’). Those delicate red-and-white flowers will be a welcome addition to bouquets throughout the summer!

Strange mushrooms popped up in the garden under the New Moon (or maybe it was the Solar Eclipse that brought these out?)!

This is a transplant from Nevada. I found him in a shed behind my father’s old house. I remember my mom loved him and so I hauled him north. All he needs is a load of hens & chicks to feel useful. I’m pretty certain I can find some of those!

I didn’t plant these today. The two on the right are survivors from last year. It’s just my favorite garden yard sale find. This wall sconce and …

This one (filled with Sweet Allysum).

A project I’d like to tackle this summer: my own natural garden arches. (Nichol’s Garden Nursery)

Hm. I need to remember to try to make some Faerie villages in my garden. I am not really into the Victorian Fairy theme, but no one says you have to populate a Fairy Garden with “The Beautiful People” of Faerie-dom. The ordinary folk are quite sufficient.

A bin full of over-priced faerie furniture. Ideas, ideas, ideas. And thank God for the “no flash” setting on a good digital camera.

My helper. He had a bad experience at Home Depot today. He loves to walk through HD, but he hates it when I have to stop and buy something. He also hates all the head pats and people oohing over him. So this woman says, “He’s an unhappy dog.” Really?

And I said, “No, he just wants to be walking. He hates it when I stop.”

She also lectured me on how fat he is. Hello?! I know: that’s WHY we’re walking at Home Depot. Sometimes people are too nosy for their own good.

Harvey started wagging his tail again when we left the store.

I have to share this. Several years ago, my husband dug up a vine maple and brought it home for the garden. The roots were entangled with a very young yew tree and a number of other wildflowers. This one took off.

It is Douglas’ Meadowfoam (Limnanthes douglasii) or “Poached Egg Flower”. It only lasts a short while in the Spring and I enjoy every moment of it. O have to keep it fenced off because the dogs like to curl up on it!

Oh – remember why I was posting this particular post? So I could remember the names of the plants I bought? I like to add the Latin names here and there to make myself sound smarter than I am. I look them up. My husband memorizes them; I look them up.

Last but not least: that solar eclipse that happened when the New Moon crossed in front of the sun.

That was as good a view as I got of it. Maybe next time.

Although I once had a mitred conure I called “Samson” that could talk. He knew about 20 words when I had to give him up. My family made me give him up.

No, not really: the orange Manx-cross barn cat we adopted made me give the bird up. That kitten was not afraid of that bird’s beak. I gave Sam away to save his life.

The kitten belonged to my son. I kept the kitten because my son desperately wanted that cat.

Rabbit trail: my son wanted to name the cat “Orangey”. My husband and I, wise parents that we are, said, “Why don’t we all put in two names into a bowl and the name we draw will be the cat’s name?” Everyone was enthusiastic and the names were written. I don’t remember all the names now, but Orangey and Benjamin Franklin were two of them. Ziggy was on four slips of paper: my husband’s two and my two. We named the cat “Ziggy”.

Not sure if my kids ever forgave us for that.

Birds.

I spied a house finch in the bird feeder the other day and decided to try for some good photos. I put the 300mm zoom on my camera and snapped a number of photos, about half of which I trashed. The ones I kept were startling.

I loved how bright red he was.

This photo made me pause. There’s really something odd about the bird’s head.

Um… That right eye does not look good.

Here you can see the left eye, which is normal, and the bulge where the right eye should be. The finch has Mycoplasmal Conjunctivitis. I am so sad!

When I snapped those photos, I thought I was looking at a healthy bird. It was only when I uploaded them to my computer that I realized what the camera saw that I did not see.

Saturday, after we came home from hunting mushrooms, I decided to sit in the garden a while with Harvey.

That was when *she* came into my life.

She buzzed around the garden before settling on the little white wire fence just three feet from my nose. She stuck her tongue out at me. Literally, not figuratively. Well, maybe she was smacking her lips.

Do birds have lips?

No, she was definitely sticking her tongue out at me: “You don’t have a camera and by the time you get one, I will be gone. Neener neener neener!”

Ah, but Sunday came.

And I was armed with a hoe, an edger, knee pads, gloves, and a funky straw hat to ward off the sun. I brought along a bottle of water. And I kept my camera on a chair cushion within easy grasp.

I was ready for her.

Oh, I was ready for her.

Do you see both of them? One is up in the upper right of the photo and the other is hovering in the lower left. Two female Black-chinned Hummingbirds. I think my little Tease finally chased the Intruder off. They certainly went at it for a few minutes, hummingbird-style.

One male came into the garden, too, but he was camera shy. I could not move quickly enough to snap a photo of him.

Isn’t she beautiful?

She spent a lot of time resting like that. I suspect she not only has a nest nearby but she is exhausted from taking care of it.

She certainly is the friendliest hummingbird.

My sweet husband convinced me that we needed to go hunting yesterday. No animals were ever in danger.

We were hunting the elusive morel mushroom. This is a tricky little number to hunt: too cold and it hasn’t come out yet. Too warm, and it came up a week ago and is all dried up, bug-infested and picked over by other mushroom hunters. There’s a “just right” condition, but that’s nearly as elusive as the mushroom itself.

It has been wet and cool, with a sudden warm-up, so we thought conditions might be perfect.

I haven’t been in the woods since 2010. That’s a very sorry state of affairs, but last year was a somewhat sorry year. My dad died in early May and I spent most of the month in Nevada, trying to help my brother sort everything out.

Don was of a mind to stay on back-roads all the way to our “secret” picking spot (I’d tell you where, but then I would have to kill you. And if I didn’t kill you, the other mushroom pickers who know our secret place would have to. It’s really not so secret). It’s over on the eastern slopes of the Cascade Mountains, a little over an hour’s drive. The point was, Don wanted to stay on back roads, but it’s only been a week since snow levels were down to “pass level” or 4,000′ elevation. He checked the USFS website and the website said the roads he wanted were open, but he really wanted to talk to someone and ask if they were actually passable.

There’s no one in the office on Saturdays to talk to.

Which brings us to the permit: you are supposed to pick up a free permit to pick mushrooms. In years past, the permit has been hanging in the little Forest Service kiosk in Zig Zag, by the Ranger Station. But not this year. No, this year the leaflet explaining all these rules said that the free permit could be obtained by dropping by the USFS Office during their regular business hours (or during your regular work hours in Portland, meaning you would have to take the time off to drive to the Ranger Station during work hours, forgoing your wages for the time out of your work week it takes, to obtain a free permit to do something you didn’t think about doing until Saturday morning when the weather was nice and you decided to drive up the mountain only to discover you can’t get a permit except during regular business hours).

We bagged the permit idea.

Yes, I just admitted that we went into the woods with the intent of picking morel mushrooms without our “free” permit because it was a spur-of-the-moment decision to go ‘shrooming and their office was closed so we couldn’t get a damn permit in the first place.

<rolls eyes>

But we were never in danger.

 

The morels we found were old, buggy, and inedible. We missed the small window of morel mushroom opportunity. So did a lot of other people as we saw several other cars and pickers out in the woods.

It was really nice to be out in the woods.

The wind soughed through the tops of the pines and the widow-makers creaked against the trees that held them up. We climbed over dead-fall and negotiated the maze of wind-blown tree skeletons. There were lots of wild flowers out, most of which I have identified.

I used Wildflowers of the Pacific Northwest by Mark Turner & Phyllis Gustafson. Some flowers refuse to be identified except by some means of a huge tome of botanical keys. I am pretty certain we have that tome in our library but it requires a more extensive knowledge of Latin and scientific terms like petioles, pinnately, and stipules. In short, it’s way too much bother for me when I can just photograph the flowers and enjoy them forever, nameless but beautiful.

We also saw a few other mushrooms out, like psilocybin and some “coral” mushrooms and Artist’s conks. I didn’t bother to look any of the other mushrooms up, preferring to leave most of the fungi anonymous. Psilocybin is easily identified and we left those alone. I can hallucinate all by myself, thank-you-very-much.

We ate lunch at Bear Springs picnic area.

On our way back home, Don decided to check out those back roads that were supposedly open. He figured that we had made it to our destination, we were on the return trip back, and we were starting from the upper elevations going down, so the worst would be at the top.

Yep. Roads are “open” but not passable. We turned around between ice and snow floes and returned to the main roads, thankful that we hadn’t tried to come up that way.

I’ve inserted the best of my photos. If you hover your mouse over a photo, the name of the wildflower will come up (if I know what it is). Sometimes I even figured out the Latin name. You should be proud of me!

Also, clicking on any image will bring it up full size.

 

Oh, the elk scat was just for kicks.

And we didn’t need that mushroom picking permit because we never picked any mushrooms.

No wildflowers were harmed.

 

 

May!

This is my third attempt at a post tonight. I should just throw in the towel and go to bed because that is what my poor aching muscles want to do and that would be the wisest decision. I can blog another time.

But I’m just stubborn enough to want to get this done.

Here’s what I did this weekend:

I finished putting up bamboo screening across the back chain link fence. We can no longer see the neighbors clearly. The dog run is going on the shady side of the shed. My prayer garden is on the sunny side.

I set up the tripod and took several photos of the Full Flower Moon. This is the only photo that came out. The rest of them looked like I was trying to photograph a halogen headlamp.

I played in PhotoShop and Paint to make a collage that I call “The Yin & Yang of Dog” (even though both dogs are male and Harvey really is the same size as Murphy – it’s all camera angle).

I got a good photo of the Black-Headed Grosbeak.

I did not get a photo of the defiant little Pine Siskin that would not get off of the bird bath so my husband could mow the lawn. But it’s etched in my brain: my husband standing in the front yard with his hands on his hips, nose to nose with a tiny little bird that had a definite attitude.

“I am not going to move and you can’t make me!”

When the bird did move, my husband moved the bird bath. And the Pine Siskin dive-bombed his back. “Take that, you lawn-mowing, bird-bath moving bully!”

I played with my camera, trying to capture the angles and shadows in my yard. This was my favorite.

Now the weekend is done and I am going to bed to rest my sore muscles.

 

 

Well, a perfect day to work in the garden and pull weeds.

It was a very nice week-end, but I didn’t even get out in the yard on Saturday: too many other errands to run plus a baby shower to go to in the evening. BUT (there’s always a “but”, isn’t there?) I saw something garden related that stopped me in my tracks. It also cost me some money. I was on my way to Target to get a baby gift as I passed the hitsoric Stevens-Crawford Heritage House (museum).

PLANT SALE.

Clackamas County Historical Society puts this one every year and I never miss it, even though most years it is rather lame. I love perusing the plants someone dug out of their own backyard to sell, love the busy members of the historical society, and I love buying something that helps fund our museums. In other words: a benefit that is near and dear to my heart.

I stopped on my way back home from Target.

I only had $14 in my wallet, but I rarely spend that much at their sales. I think last year I spent less than $10 and got a couple hellebores (Lenten Rose) and some blue-eyed grass (an Oregon native plant). But this year they had three times the inventory and a lot more shrubs.

And I found this.

There was a tag on it, but I really had no idea what it was. All I knew was 1) it smelled amazing 2) it had great shape and 3) it was priced $10.00

Fothergilla Major Blue Shadow – it grows 6′-8′ tall and has an added bonus of being extremely showy in the fall with bright red-orange and purplish leaves.

I returned to the plant sale after I got groceries and some more change (they don’t take debit cards and I didn’t have my check book with me). I spent $20 more.

One pot filled with several pink Oriental poppies, another hellebore, 2 more clumps of blue-eyed grass and a 4″ pot of Love-in-a-Mist which is a self-seeding annual (I try to avoid annuals).

Today I had to run back to the store because I forgot (!!) dog treats when I was running around yesterday. And I fell in love with this.

WHY do I do this? I have a hard time keeping the flowers in hanging baskets alive all summer, but I never seem to be able to walk away from them. $14.

I made myself come home after that. The dogs were happy that I remembered their treats.

I then spent four blissful hours in my prayer garden, weeding, digging up bleeding hearts and dropping snails (and slugs) into poison. I cursed myself for thinking I was doing the bleeding hearts a favor by rescuing them from under the handicap ramp and planting them in my flower bed. Who knew the cursed things would take over?

I didn’t get them all dug out: they will be back by fall. But I drastically forestalled their take-over of my garden. I even pulled out a number of forget-me-nots, but decided that I love the blue too much to dig them all out. I will regret that decision when the flowers all drop off and the sticky little seeds entangle in Harvey’s silky hair, stick to my socks and clothes, and generally wreak havoc as uninvited hitchhikers. The seed pods are made of Velcro™.

The only thing I did not get accomplished was edging that damn grass back. I did, however, buy plastic edging to put down to stop the grass when I do get it edged back (again). I found the blue-eyed grass and both hellebores I bought last year from the benefit sale at Stevens-Crawford Heritage House.

Now if I could figure out a way to kill the bleeding hearts that I dug up… (I left a clump in the very back corner, but I pulled all the ones that were in the foreground – those are the ones whose roots I want to kill. Preferably in an organic manner so I can plant something else in the vacancy.

I put my tools away and fetched my camera because the day was still young and Spring is in the air and…

I had an essay to write, still.

The espalier apple trees are in full bloom.

I love apple blossoms.

I *hate* Camellias. They are pretty for 5 seconds.

Then they turn into brown mush six inches deep under the bush.

This is the best photo I can come up with to show the snow damage to the one rhododendron. It was a round bush, but now it looks like someone sliced off a portion of the circle on top. Poor rhodie!

This is the lilac that came with the house. I moved it when we moved in because it was struggling in the corner it was planted in. I didn’t expect the neighbor’s fir tree to overshadow it. It is still struggling to thrive, but it looks much fuller this year.

I call this my Cindy lilac because my friend, Cindy, gave it to me when it was just a twig. It has outgrown the other lilac.

I love lilacs.

I also love that I live in Oregon and in the Portland metro area where we have free curbside recycling. I filled the yard debris can today (it will be taken to a compost site and will be turned into something beneficial for gardens). I can’t compost it because my compost pile doesn’t get hot enough to kill the weed seeds. Where this is going, it gets hot enough.

The big grey bin is for our regular recycles (plastic & paper) and the little blue one is for our garbage. We pay for the blue one. The others are free.

(And I do have a compost bin, but I can’t possible compost everything I pull up in my yard, so quite a bit of it goes to Metro.)

I am tired.

And I haven’t even planted my new plants (yet).

 

 

Today, in Norway. The best sort of public protest.

While the protest was in response to the trial of terrorist Anders Breivik, it could be also be a fitting response to the terrorists of every culture, from the drug cartels to the religious extremists who believe that killing their enemy is their duty to their “god”.

One sky above us.

Wouldn’t it be wonderful if we could have more rallies like this, in more places in the world, people holding roses in the air and singing a child’s song.

Naive, yes. Wishful, yes. But wouldn’t it still be wonderful?

You can hum the song to yourself or crank up some Judy Collins, be my guest.

We had three lovely days in a row, two of them on a weekend. Monday evening, the clouds rolled in. I wondered if we would get a sunset.

That’s “iffy” here, on the west slope of the Cascade Mountain range. I grew up on the east slopes of mountains, and sunsets were commonplace. Here, they are extremely rare and never quite as spectacular as those in the Great Basin.

I decided that even if we didn’t get a sunset, watching the changes in the clouds was well worth the time – and photography. The winds in the atmosphere were high, altering the shape and distorting the light in the cumulus clouds coming from the southwest. If I captured nothing else, I might capture the light – and as an artist, I could only hope to do that much!

So I sat on the steps with my buddy, Harvey (who was feeling all kinds of better) and I snapped photos.

By the time the sun dipped below the horizon, the wind died. The drastic difference in atmospheric pressure and temperature evened out and the clouds dissipated. We did not get the hoped-for sunset, but we did get a bit of color.

I don’t feel the way about love the way the singer in the song does, but, clouds…

 

The rain clouds finally parted and we actually had a couple of very nice days on the weekend. So, of course, I overdid it.

Don got out the chain saw and did a little garden work, too. He started with the Camellia. It suffered some damage in the last snow storm back in March and then the heaviness of all the blooms further compromised it.

Before.

After.

Then he turned the chain saw onto the holly tree.

Now we have an unobstructed view of the neighbor’s back yard (darn!) but see that dog run leaning up against the shed? That is going where the holly used to stand. Finally! A home for both dogs!

I had to sneak up on him to get a photo of him doing all this work. He chipped nearly half the tree before he got tired. I couldn’ t help him because I am allergic to the Camellia. My face swells up, my eyes swell shut, and I get hives on my arms.

True Story.

Murphy is convinced the chain saw (and the chipper) are giant monsters. He shoved Harvey aside and climbed up onto my lap while I was weeding.

He is not a little dog.

I was not being lazy while Don did all the saw work. I was on my hands and knees turning my north flower bed into a presentable flower bed. I hate grass that grows where grass is not supposed to go. I hate chickweed after it goes to seed. I hate dandelions, thistles, buttonweed, and the other sundry things that clog up my garden.

I will say this: the advent of the hazelnut mulch seems to have stifled the purple clover. I didn’t see any purple clover and it is generally more prolific than chickweed. In fact, I didn’t find any clover in this flower bed this year. Just a lot of grass that didn’t belong.

And a couple small slugs.

I hope a few small slugs is all I see. Those little white flowers are future wild strawberries. I don’t want to share my strawberries with slugs.

I also did a little bit of work in my prayer garden. It’s a mess.

The weeds are coming in, the forget-me-nots have taken over pockets, the native bleeding hearts are pushing out other plants, and I didn’t get around to dead-heading anything before winter came. I also regret opening it up so the dogs could run through it.

By the way, I am buying more of that bamboo to put up on the rest of the fence that the holly used to block.

This was all I actually got done in the prayer garden: I weeded and fenced off that little corner. The neighbor’s cat likes to sit on the fence there and the dogs think they should dig there. I don’t resent the cat; I resent the damage the dogs do.

Apple blossoms.

Garden work wouldn’t exist if not for the weeds, plant diseases and pests. We could just let plants grow, bloom, and fruit. It would be so wonderful.

But we have weeds.

Some of my peonies have a blight.

Something is nibbling at them! I’ll need to do some homework. It’s just a few of my peonies, not all of them. But a few are a few too many.

I didn’t see very many large slugs, but when I got into the shadier part of my prayer garden, I found a number of large snails.

If they were Pacific Northwest Natives, I wouldn’t be alarmed, but I don’t think they are. I think they are Brown Garden Snails. And that presents a problem, ecologically and in my garden. I am going to have to do some study on how to rid my garden of the pests, and do it quickly.

I don’t know what this is, but I am having a heck of a time killing it. It’s some wild relative of Borage, but the flowers are bell-shaped. Borage has star-shaped flowers. I thought it would make a nice accent plant. HA! It took over my garden. Round-Up acted like fertilizer to it. The only effective way to kill it is to salt it heavily when I see it. The salt kills it. It is the plant equivalent of a slug.

Die, Weed, Die!

There, I feel better.

Under Random Garden Notes is this: the first rhododendron to bloom is so over-loaded with blossoms that when the sun is on it, it makes my kitchen blinds appear to be pink.

It also suffered damage during the last March snow storm, damage that has been exacerbated by the heavy show of blooms. There are gaps at the top of it where branches have bent downward. The photo doesn’t do the damage justice. It’s ugly.

My tulips opened.

Has nothing to do with work because I haven’t started on the front flower beds.

They’re just pretty.

This is not a honey bee. It has a black abdomen. It’s a little larger than a honey bee and it lives underground.

Here’s one of the holes.

My resident Apiarist has not (yet) identified these bees, but he is making plans to protect their nests. They aren’t aggressive. They are just another insect oddity in our yard and another little bee we need to be careful of.

We love bees. The flowers I plant are planted with bees in mind. The more bees, the healthier the environment.

That’s my Earth Day Statement.

Encourage bees in your yard. (Bees are not the same as wasps. Wasps are not all “bad”. Even Yellowjackets have their place in the ecology, except during the end of the summer month when they become aggressive and mean. I am not fond of Yellowjackets then.)

This sad-looking puppy didn’t feel good.

He moped like this all weekend. I even took him to see the vet, but she couldn’t find anything wrong with him. I know something is wrong, because this is not a happy Harvey.

Stay tuned. Harvey was happier tonight.

I am headed to bed early. I have a slight pink tinge to my arms, but no sunburn. My muscles are tired.

I have so much more to do and the rain is coming back on Tuesday.