With only five days to go before the Garden Tour, it is hard to keep panic at bay. Weeds spring up in spots that were pristine only five minutes earlier. Big, fluffy-heady peonies suddenly need staking after weeks of minimal growth. The daffodil foliage must be cut back now so it doesn’t block paths or give the beds a chaotic look. Every hour ten more maple seedlings leap out of the ground at the base of the privet hedge and every time I get one out, two more pop up in its place. Nothing in the yard grows faster than maple seedlings—not even the onion grass. The deer who frequent the neighbor’s yard watch all of this in amused silence while munching on the wisteria. I know they are eyeballing the rosebushes, which are covered with tasty, tender buds. Fortunately it is not hard to attempt deer distraction by doing my best imitation of a crazy woman. I am not sure it fools the deer, but my husband is convinced.
On the positive side, the cool, cloudy weather has held back the roses, so they should be in full bloom in five days’ time. The bearded and Siberian iris are in their glory and the peonies, for all their big-headedness, are strutting on the garden stage like a bunch of chorus girls. A short run of rainy days has made watering unnecessary. If the forecast is correct, we will have several sunny days to perk up the plants and give desperate gardeners like me a chance to do the finishing touches.
There is not now and will never be enough mulch, even though I have hurled tons of it onto the beds and paths over the past many weeks. My car smells of it, making me give thanks that I invested in bags of cedar mulch rather than composted cow manure.
Now that the daffodil foliage has been removed at breakneck speed, vast gaps have appeared in the beds. I struggle to fill the bare spots with either mulch or annuals. It is now officially too late for transplanting divisions of my existing plants, because the new transplants will still be suffering from division/transplant shock on Tour Day. Anemic looking plants are not impressive, even if they are the most economical way to fill holes.
I plug holes with coleus and impatiens in the shady spots and a few random perennials in the sunny ones.
It is finally time to do the jobs that I have put off since I started planning for this even eighty-eight days ago. Today I don stout garden gloves and pull out the poison ivy that is coming through the privet hedge on the north side. The large, ferocious canes of the climbing ‘New Dawn’ rose will be tied tightly to the arch in the upper garden. The job requires a ladder, but it is absolutely necessary lest taller garden visitors graze their heads on the thorny overhead branches.
After treating the rose-inflicted wounds, I will finally clean off the porches and the porch furniture–if only so I can collapse guilt-free at the end of the tour.
Of course, this event is not about me. It is about bringing the community together to celebrate the joy of growing things, while raising a little money for two of the schools in my town. Both will happen no matter what my garden looks like.
Still, I want it to be as lovely as I can make it.
Most of the time I garden for myself—luxuriating in the relaxation, inspiration and beauty that are part of the gardening process. I love it when my husband, my daughter or my neighbors appreciate the results, but it is one of the few things in my life that I do for purely selfish reasons. When I open up the garden, I open up my personal space. Alone in the garden, I am invincible—unless the groundhog is nearby. When I let strangers in, the cloak of invincibility disappears.
We came to this house over thirteen years ago, and found the backyard hardscaping in place, augmented by a few small plants and lots of Roses of Sharon shrubs. Now those Roses of Sharon keep company with a large number of roses, perennials, shrubs and trees. Despite the array of interesting foliage, the emphasis is on flowers. On a sunny day, when the roses are in their first flush of bloom for the year, I think the garden is glorious. Sunshine is forcasted for Tour Day, so I hope that at least a few of the garden visitors will share my joy in the colors, shapes and fragrances.
No matter what happens, the effort was worth it. I will move into summer having already completed all the major garden chores for the season. Then maybe I’ll finally have time to figure out how to build myself a water feature.