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Another day, another layer of stone.
It’s back breaking work and though I kept offering to help… I got the look and strolled myself back inside the house.
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Every time I thought he was almost finished, I’d check back to find he’d removed what he previously laid and reworked the section.
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And when he knelt inside the border like that?
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It looked like one very expensive sandbox.
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I’m happy to report it was a dull and uneventful day of stone installation.
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Probably because I stayed in the house. Oh, I was out there bright and early ready to work, but my help was neither needed nor desired.. so I left him to it.
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The border looks great, though it really is a lot smaller than I wanted.
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The perennial bed I had envisioned will have to be dramatically downsized.
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But something is better than nothing and he certainly is doing a good job.
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It’s daylily time.
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When we bought this house there were no gardens to speak of and very little in the way of plantings but there were two bunches of oranges daylilies .
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I can’t honestly say that’s where I would have planted them, but they thrive so who am I to complain?
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Orange seems to be the hardiest and most prolific color in my part of the world.
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And honestly they’re the easiest no fuss, no care flower there is.
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I’ve planted a few others over the years….
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But it really is a shame they’re true to their name. Each bloom only lasts a day.
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Because when your local nursery has a buy one get one free geranium sale…
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You bogo the hell out of that and fill your car.
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And your kitchen counter.
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And drop geraniums everywhere there isn’t one.
Empty corner?
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Not anymore.
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I was helping.
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In so far as the husband would let me help… with what was my idea to begin with. That’s usually how things go at Casa River. I want to do something and come up with a plan… then the husband gets involved and does it completely his way.
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Granted he knows more about stone wall building… but I had a vision ya know?
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I like weird looking rocks, like this bird’s head skeleton I placed in the corner ….
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And these two that look like ham steaks. I wanted them prominently placed to give the border some quirk and character.
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So of course the husband moved all three and buried them. When I said something? He got ticked off and told me I can let him build it or hire someone else to do exactly what I want… and believe me that’s tempting.
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I love my husband. I do. He’s a wonderful man. But it would be nice if we could a work project together… in harmony, like we used to. Whether it’s male menopause, adjusting to retired life or basic old man crankiness .. lately he tests my patience to the point where I just have to walk away. Why must every difference of opinion turn into a fight? It’s exhausting.
Do you work well with your spouse/significant other. Or do you have to take a hike as well?
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Work began on the perennial bed stone border recently… though not without incident.
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The existing bed measured 10×20… and when I first discussed the project with my husband I told him I wanted to expand it by at least 4 feet due to the apple tree that took up residence a decade ago. He heard me, but clearly didn’t care.
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Because when I looked outside the other day and saw him staking off level lines at the edge of the dirt… I said something.
Big mistake.
Huge.
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He heatedly explained the stone needed to be laid on flat earth and if I wanted him to do it, they would be laid inside the bed border. Period. End of discussion. Numerous hours of anger to follow.
Ladies? Never doubt the existence of male menopausal mood swings. They’re real.
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His way means I lose a good foot on every side, making my garden bed 4 foot smaller instead of larger. Not what I wanted. Not what I’d planned.
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But apparently what I’m getting.
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It’s hard to argue when I’m clearly not the one doing the majority of work. And I’m sure it will be lovely when completed…
But it would be nice if just once, we could come to an agreement without acrimony.
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Have you seen the new yellow watermelons at the grocery store?
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I had to try one… and to be honest I wasn’t that impressed. The texture was a little strange and I don’t think it was nearly as sweet as the red.
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No wonder it always looks like dolphins are having fun. They’re high.
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I’ve had this houseplant on a window shelf for years. I can’t remember the name, but it’s always been a small steady presence…until this month when it decided to grow long tentacles and turn into an alien. If I disappear from WordPress suddenly? You’ll know why.
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Don’t think raccoons are accomplished acrobats? I beg to differ.
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We’re dry in Maine. Unusually dry for this time of year. As in parts of our lawn are crunching and half the state is in drought conditions. Me? I’m still dragging 300 feet of hose out to the back 40 to keep our new trees alive. It seems we just can’t win when it comes to picking a time to plant.
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Whaaat! Not my ice cream.
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Whew. Only Floridian ice cream.
Sorry Florida..
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This week at the Casa River gardens…
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Pink Astible. Guaranteed woodchuck proof, they hate it.
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A new hot pink bee balm I just planted. Dark red and purple are common, this one is as bright as a peony.
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My little rose is hanging in, but not quite as full as previous years. Fertilizer is on the shopping list.
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The geraniums are wonderful this year. Our local nursery is about to have a half price sale. This could be dangerous.
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A line of Stella Doro day lilies. Smaller than other varieties but still a nice burst of color.
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If you remember from a previous post, I’m highly susceptible to the dreaded brown tail moth rash. Seriously, if there’s one of those little bastards in my neighborhood, my town or even my county… it will find me and make me pay.
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Their hairs are microscopic and if you come in contact? You’ll know it within a few hours. Which is what happened to me after weeding my perennial bed the other day, even though I wore gloves and made a point to avoid brushing up against the tree.
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My knee…
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And arm a few hours after showering. I had the rash on my legs, my back, my stomach, my arms and especially my right knee. That section of flesh was positively on fire with uncontrollable itching… and by the next day?
* warning – if you’re eating while reading this, you might want to skip the next picture *
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My right knee looked like Mount Vesuvius, and not in a good way. Failing to understand why this particular body part suffered such an extreme reaction, I examined the pillow I was crouching on and sure enough… I had squished a moth to death on the right side and ground his toxic hairs deep into my epidermis.
Life has not really been worth living this week, and if you happen to have any extra rough grade sandpaper lying around… feel free to send it my way so I can rip off what’s left of my skin.
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Now that we had my longed for pallet of stones, it was time to attack the garden of weeden .
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Since the damage to my knee, I try to avoid anything that has to be done in a crouched or kneeling position but I’d put this off for two years and if pain was the price I had to pay for a new perennial bed? So be it.
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An hour and a half in, I was sore.
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Two and a half hours in I was popping Tylenol and Motrin like Jelly Bellies.
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At the end of the day my knee was creaking like the front door of a haunted house, but it was done. A 10 x 20 patch of virgin soil, ready for a stone border and planting.
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