Wildflower Garden

Nothing more hopeful that a big bad of wildflower seeds

A few weeks ago, Bob negotiated with Jerry, the bobcat guy working up the alley, to remove the rocks beside the garage. The area was used as a parking spot for campers and snowmobile trailers over the years, but the last snowmobile was sold over a year ago and the rocks were definitely an eyesore. Jerry also delivered a few loads of "black dirt" from his worksite and leveled it out.

Bob was ready to plant grass, but I had been looking wistfully at bee and butterfly friendly wildflowers since last summer and was eager to turn this "arable land", as I thought of the space, into a delightful wildflower garden.

I pictured myself sitting on the deck with a glass of wine of a summer afternoon, watching birds and butterflies, camera on the table beside me. I imagined my beautiful flowers brightening the landscape and helping the environment. I felt so good about myself!

Bob reluctantly agreed to the garden, suspecting that the venture might not succeed and that, sooner or later, he would get his grass. I started "turning the soil" early in the week and after a few minutes of shoveling, I realized that the job was harder and bigger than anticipated. The "soil" was so hard and difficult to work that I began to reflect on the Parable of the Sower. I thought about bringing in some better soil but really all I wanted to do was get the damn job done.

Today I returned to my labor, determined to finish the project. By now, I'd decided that Lady Bird Johnson didn't get all that wildflower planting done by tilling the banks of the nation's freeways. Surely some of the seeds had fallen on rocky ground and flourished. Shortly before noon, son Chris came along and shoveled the last few square yards for me, and I felt a little optimistic.

Chris is a good landscaper and he told me to turn the soil again before raking it. What? Fill the rock bucket again? Not happening.  I raked the area with little enthusiasm and sprinkled the seed-mulch-fertilizer combo, a poisonous looking bag of green pellets. I hosed the whole mess just to get the job out of the way.

I spent the afternoon feeling exhausted. My attraction for the land has diminished this evening, and while I'm guardedly hopeful, I don't feel that good about myself or the future of my wildflower garden.