Let’s start out with a little math today:

365 (days in a year) – 21 (average # of days away from home each year) = 344
344 x 2.5 (average # of times I take the dog out each day) = 860
860 x 5 (average # of minutes spent outside with said dog) = 4300
4300/60 = 71.66 hours spent outside with the dog each year (and that only includes bathroom trips)

What is the point of this tedious mathematical equation? Glad you asked.

When properly rounded, that is 72 hours (or 3 days) spent each year just critiquing my front garden beds while walking the dog. As much as I love Casey, (a Labrador Retriever who will be 13 in July), I am in full-on garden evaluation mode while I am outdoors with her. This is true winter, spring, summer or fall. It’s joy and torture all rolled into one. Think of it as “paralysis by analysis”. Maybe I should have mixed it up and taken her to other parts of the yard, but the damage is already done.

Recently, on a cold and windy evening, as I stood outside with my dog, I was at it again. I was getting myself all worked up over a number of seemingly unimportant plant/gardening issues. This is supposed to be relaxing and fun, right? Not always for me.

As a means of therapy, and clearing my conscience and to also help others who are suffering from the same draining and painful affliction, I decided I would share my inner most thoughts with you all. It isn’t always pretty and it may sour your love of gardening, so consider yourself warned.

This is a ‘Mt Hood’ daffodil that is supposed to be all white after a brief yellow trumpet period. I don’t like them yellow at all so why don’t I just replace them with an “all white, all the time” option? Does that even exist?:

This is the angle I typically view these same daffodils each day and night. If they are all going to lean forward and seek out the sun, what is the point?:

F’n daylillies! Their new spring foliage always looks so clean and vibrant yet I know I’ll hate them in early summer after they bloom. Yes, I can shear them at that time but who wants to do that at that time of year? Are they even worth it?:

Speaking of newly emerging foliage, this ‘Little Elf’ spirea looks good early in the season but you know that great yellow hue will be washed out as the temps get warmer and warmer. Again, is it all worth it? Especially in a prominent place near my front entrance?:

What bulbs did I even plant here? I have no memory of planting them this past fall. I’ve got nothing in front of them to hide their decaying foliage and we all know how important it is to let the foliage die out on its own. One year and then trash these, whatever the hell they are?:  

Like a champ, I managed to kill off about ten Lamium plants last summer and this is the sole survivor. But what the hell do you do with one groundcover? Do I ditch it? Buy more to go with it? But I killed a bunch already. Maybe that was because they received too much sun? Or were planted to deep into the summer? Who thinks about a Lamium this much?:

I guess my blog name continues to represent my gardening philosophy.

I do have my relaxed moments and enjoy everything that plants throw my way.

Maybe I just need to bring a book outside with me when I walk the dog?

Have a great weekend!

John  

In this video, I try to identify a bizarre bird noise and need your help:

We can’t all be superstars.

Because then our superstars would no longer be superstars.

And if our superstars are then no longer superstars, we were never superstars in the first place.  

Simple, right?

I’m a deep guy (as evidenced by my preceding well conceived hypothesis) and I carry that deepness out into the garden. While all of you get all sorts of pumped up for the tulips or daffodils to bloom, I’m on my hands and knees appreciating the more subtle and less valued signs of spring.

Exhibit A – Boxwood ‘Green Mountain’ blooms:    

 
Read any description of a boxwood and in small fine print at the end of the paragraph you’ll find the term “insignificant flowers”. Really? Don’t you think they worked hard to produce those flowers? They are filled with nectar and pollen; so what if the bees aren’t around to find it. That’s their loss.

Exhibit B – Carex (cultivar unknown – damn nursery and their lack of labeling) and it’s brown/tan flowers:  

I cut these back just a week ago and boom, just like that they produced these flowers. Again, their flowers are labeled as “insignificant”. I like them. They’re unique. Sorry they’re not all yellow or red or blue. Brown is a color last time I checked.

Listen, I love big showy flowers as much as the next guy. I geek out on the developing Viburnum blooms like the one below:

Anxiously awaiting for them to transform to this:

But I got love for all flowers and you should too.

Who’s with me?

John