I generally do leave almost everything stand until Spring for several
reasons, but not having spent 1/10th the time I normally do out there this
year, I am really hating to see things fade. We got to sit out there the
other evening for one of the first times all year (I normally sit there
reading the evening paper to a candle watching the sun set over the farm)
and saw that a few of the monarda in one of the red beds of them had a few
new blooms where I had deadheaded before spraying the Fungonil to save them
a while back. We were surprised to when we got buzzed by a hummer that was
getting desperate enough to not be scared off by our presence.
I don't know why, but that bird was about as welcome a sight as the first
one we ever saw way back when. He floated all around the garden looking
over the Blue Mists, the Mallows, the Asters and such... but basically only
cared to dine on the few monarda and on the Strata in the other corner (odd,
as we've never seen them interested in any of the few annuals, but never
seen such prolific bloom from our Strata as this cool wet year brought). We
watched him bobbing around taking a taste and up to take a look at us and
down for a taste again over and over for about 10 minutes (we're rural and
they're not accustomed to people like they are in some gardens and usually
flee at loud breathing even).
When we were walking down to the garden we saw the usual 50 or 75 birds
flocking away from atop all our Coneflowers (two large beds of them) and
Rudbeckia and, as much as we often enjoy seeing them partaking of that
gourmet feast... we just didn't want to see it this year. I don't know why
we're getting such late odd blooms other than the coolness of the year, but
just about everything out there is getting a few and I wondered if I could
fool Mother Nature this year and shear things down a bit for more blooms.
Maybe I'll try it once, just for the heck of it, although, in the middle of
winter I'll miss looking out there and seeing all those brown heads out
there bobbing around above the fence as the garden thumbs it's nose at
winter and all that snow, too.
I think every songwriter deserves that moment
when they realize that their piece of work is not
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