Wednesday, March 15, 2006

It's that time of year again. The raphiolepsis are brimming with buds about to burst forth with their pink/white blooms. There is a hint of raspberry pink along the limbs of the azalea bushes. The red Japanese maple is budding.

It's time for spring garden fever.

I'd be okay if I could stay out of the Lowe's or Home Depot plant nursery.

Oh, I just go insane in there. Yes, I want a cherry tree and a fig tree. Definately a Bradford Pear tree. Perhaps an apple tree.

And I need azaleas, you can never have too many azaleas. And oleander for the back fence. And a mock orange bush, they smell so sweet. Oh! And gardenias. And for the back fence line, where the squirrels and racoons and bunnies come to eat, some fruit producers: fig, blueberry, pear, apple. Or perhaps a pecan tree for them.

Then I get serious and drag out my Southern Living Garden book. I plot out bloom colors, bloom seasons, evergreens or deciduous, shade loving or sun loving. I wander the aisles of the nursery, captivated, my head spinning like Linda Blair's. Oh, pink, no red, no purple, oh...look at those blues and yellows.

In the end, it is too much. I take one little corner of the yard and fix it up. Then my elbow, knees and back remind me that I really shouldn't be doing this anymore. But I can't help it. It thrills me to no end to make a little beautiful spot in my yard. To get my hands dirty and to sweat and do hard work just to prove to myself that, regardless of the consequences that will come, I still can do it.

So, this year I'm thinking I need to replace that missing japonica, tear out the monkey grass and fill that entire front bed with azaleas, dig up under the palm tree and plant some hostas, perhaps. I need to replace that poor pitiful popcorn tree that didn't survive it's transplation. Cherry? Yes, I think so. And I'd like a new flowerbed on the yard side of the sidewalk. Maybe some smaller azaleas in front of the row of japonicas. Oh, and I really need to do something with the side of the house where Jason dug out that oleander that was threatening to attack and eat the neighbor's garage.

See? I need garden dreamer's anonymous. I can't stop.

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