The wildflower garden became overrun with the area's worst weeds:
poison ivy, honeysuckle, black mulberry, black cherry, and worst of
all, wild rosebush. Using a combination of manual and power
implements last fall, I leveled the area. The game plan is to mow
over the area; eventually it will revert to grass.
So this spring the Warrior Princess (my old lady) said that she wanted
to save a few of the daylilies and transplant them into another flower
garden that she weeds regularly. "No!" sez I. We agreed to no more
picks and shovels. No more planting except for annuals like impatiens
and geraniums. When you're into your geezerhood, it's time to kick
back a little. "Just a half dozen or so clumps," says she.
So there she is this AM, digging into the daylilies. The ground's
hard as rock due to lack of rain. So what choice did I have but to
grab the pick and pitch-in? After six clumps were up, "Oh get those
three more over there .... how 'bout the five over there ...." On and
on we worked. Now I'm in pretty good shape for a geezie, daily
jogging, etc. but she has the energy of Superwoman despite several
serious medical problems requiring meds 24/7. This is because one of
those meds is Prednisone for one of her conditions called polymyalgia
rheumatica. She sleeps at most four hrs. a night.
Anyway, we dug up about 50 clumps (What happened to "half dozen or
so"?) and then had to enlarge the 2nd garden and dig the daylilies new
homes. I'm wiped out but she's still out there planting the clumps
and probably will be until dark. Guess I'll check on her every half
hr. or so.