The Obsessive Neurotic Gardener

Author Archives: jmarkowski

Eradication

Posted on by Posted in Comedy, Garden problems .

I’ve been at war with poison ivy for close to two decades now and I’d like to think I’m winning. I’ve managed to keep it in check without my skin suffering and without it taking out any of my precious plants.

But this has been staring me in the face for some time now.

This poor Catmint has had the life sucked out of it and is real close to throwing in the towel. I’ve made half-hearted attempts to yank out the poison ivy vines from the base but it’s only been cosmetic. A brief interlude of what appears to be eradication but it’s only been fighting off the inevitable. Within days, it’s back and with a vengeance.

So while it may have been 94 degrees Fahrenheit, accompanied with a blistering and blinding sun yesterday afternoon, I set out to give my Nepeta well earned relief.

And ended up with a crime scene.

What a tangled mess. The poison ivy had wound itself around the base of the Catmint like a pissed off cobra. There was little I could do to salvage anything amongst the carnage.

But I did.

She lives to see another day.

Not much but it’s something. I’ll nurse her back to health and will employ a 24/7 watch on any mutha f’ers that try to get near her.

And if I’m being fully transparent, I had to keep something alive in the front bed. Otherwise I’d be left with four Catmint plants and I can’t be having an even number like that.

One works.

Three works.

Five works.

Six works because it’s 3 + 3.

Four never works.

A brief intermission or intermezzo, if you will, before we move on to more carnage.

Two photos of bees.

Enjoy.

Do you grow Dwarf Alberta Spruce?

Has it been successful?

Has the shape remained palatable all these years later?

My goal is to get all of my DAS to look like Grimace.

And that hasn’t happened.

I removed one a few weeks ago as mentioned on this here blog. A spur of the moment chainsaw moment. I didn’t capture any photos and vowed to correct that with the next one.

And here is the next one.

Baby got back, right?

Take a closer look at how abnormal this has grown.

From certain angles it could suffice.

But it was time to move on.

So off with its head, so I could start removing branch by branch, irritated wrists and forearms be damned.

And then the chainsaw chain got jammed and shut itself down. No worries, it’s an electric chainsaw, I’m not that rugged.

I spent a good hour attempting to fix it while sitting in the grass, frying my arse off. I tried a few You Tube videos without any luck. It’s still not fixed a day later and this is what I’m stuck with, a jacked up bonsai.

I moved and divided some Ajuga instead. And then it rained. Which was ideal.

To be continued.

One determined gardener

Posted on by Posted in Blooms, Garden problems, My garden, Perennials, Spring .

I have been at it for the last two weeks. I’m talking like, psychotic. Long sweaty stretches of moving plants, weeding, cutting back and cutting ties with plants (some that required a chainsaw) that had seen better days. Also, short dashes of five- minute weeding sprints between work meetings, ten-minute watering’s before the work day kicked off and three minutes hyper dashes spent moving a Joe Pye Weed a few inches to the left and a boxwood a foot forward because my OCD won’t subside until it’s done. If any increment of time was found, it was spent outside.

The motivation? Simple answer: panic. Panic is the motivator in all aspects of my life. With the garden, it was panic that things were getting away from me and soon I’d throw in the towel and give up like I’d done the previous few years. Not this time. I’ve come too far to not see this through to the point where I’ve envisioned it going for the better part of two decades.

The routine:

Open garage door while shoving a protein bar down my throat.

Slip on boots, hoping no snakes, mice or spiders found their way inside. Boots never tied. Time saved too vital.

Pull on nitrile gloves, fully aware poison ivy juices still reside on the palm and fingers.

Grab orange Home Depot bucket, chuck trowel and pruners inside.

Grab spade and twirl to show I meant business.

Head outside and wait for the inspiration to wash over me.

Kick ass.

I should also add that we’re expecting rain every day for the next week or so and that provided additional inspiration to get as much done as possible, physical well being be damned. I snapped the photo below to try and capture the impending bad weather which is really awesome weather as I can’t wait to sit back and watch every plant drink the H2O while I revel in my accomplishments.

The funny thing is I feel like I’ve done so much and transformed the garden for the better, but the common eye wouldn’t notice a thing. I imagine my wife thinking, “You’ve been working out there for hours on end and honestly, I see little difference.” She’d never say it as she’s too kind and knows I’d never recover, but I know she’s thinking it.

For example, this is the view at the end of the driveway. I’ve mentioned previously that I didn’t like how the “legs” of the Baptisia were exposed. Well a few weeks later and the Baptisia exploded; legs for days. For whatever reason, I had planted three here a few years back where there was really only room for one. I wonder how I can be so dumb after all of these years gardening.

As you probably know, moving a Baptisia is impossible. The taproot digs way freaking deep. So instead of taking on that herculean task, I … gulp … cut them all to the ground now that they’ve finished blooming. It killed me but I couldn’t take it any longer. The results:

I added a bunch of new annuals at the front, exposed three grasses that had been buried by the aggressive Baptisias and even found a white coneflower that had been growing inside one of the Baptisia plants. I also dug up a Clethra that had suckered badly and was half dead. That gave me room to add a Smokebush I had sitting in a container on my deck. Here, I hope it will be sheltered from the deer and thrive.

I’ll deal with the long term ramifications of the Baptisia at another time.

This one had me hot and bothered for a few years. Another example of not thinking long term when I constructed the vignette. Zebra grasses, IMHO, are fine as specimen plantings but are too much when grouped together. Here I had planted three when they were tiny plugs and they took off overnight. I hated how they looked.

So out went two, as did my back on multiple occasions, and we ended up with this:

Five mountain mints and a Little Bluestem ‘Chameleon’ in its place. This is going to kick so much ass when done and after the plants have been established. I can’t wait to share with you all.

BTW, the two zebra grasses I moved … here’s what I discovered to my horror a few days ago.

Might want to stay on top of the watering next time wanna-be-master-gardener.

Quick aside: I’m obsessed with all type of Mountain Mint. I’m still not sure what this one is, but it spreads freely all over my garden and I let it do whatever it wants. An absolute critter magnet and tough SOB.

I went hog wild on the annuals and right back to what I had planted last year in the pic below. I can’t get enough of the verbena and love how they look with a bluish grass (in this case a Panicum ‘Cloud Nine’) behind them. While I planted six of these, there were three others in the same area after seeding from last year’s plants. The gorgeous purple gift that keeps on giving.

There’s a lot going on here but I’ll spare you all the details. I moved around the Meadowsweet for maximum viewing pleasure and to ideally, to layer the garden bed appropriately by height. I like, so far.

Two notes:

  1. The window all the way to the right is the window I stare out of 8 hours a day while working from home. Because of that, this is the section of garden that is the most critiqued.
  2. The container in the lower right is a grass gifted from my brother-in-law who lives down the street. Aren’t I a lucky dude?

In:

  1. Annuals that should spill on to the sidewalk. I can’t remember the name because I’m annual clueless.

Out:

  1. Three Liatris that never thrived in this partial sun spot.
  2. Four Speedwell that had seen better days – RIP
  3. A variegated Northern Sea Oats that had become no longer variegated and seeded like a mutha f’er.

And here’s where the Liatris was relocated to a full sun spot.

I should also add that the Liatris blooms reached towards the sun in their old spot and that drove me insane. I need them to be more upright. Hopefully no problem, no more.

Also, forgot to RIP the variegated NSO. Look how pretty she looks in this photo.

I removed a ton of poison ivy all over the garden and paid for it with a rash on every appendage. I haven’t addressed it here yet. It’s comingled with almost all of my Catmint and I need to make a call soon. Eradicate it all and start fresh? Or try to save the catmint and keep the poison ivy at bay?

To be continued …

I love these Carex. Hold on one second.

Pause, pause, pause.

I’m back. Ran to the garage to find the tag and can’t locate it. Inexcusable. Not sure of the name but I will find it and let you know ASAP. They do claim to deal with full sun and if that claims holds true, I’ll be loading up on it as a groundcover all over the garden.

Have an awesome weekend my friends.

Garden tour

Posted on by Posted in Spring, Uncategorized .

It’s a joy to watch all of the perennials, grasses and shrubs start to fill in and truly bring the garden alive but all I can focus on is that bare section at the front of the this garden bed. I need to get my arse to the nursery and buy me some annuals to fill in ASAP.

I’ve soured some on the Weigela ‘Wine and Roses’ flowers over the years, as they feel, I don’t know, kind of obnoxious in their abundance. But, there are two hummingbirds who have lingered here for days now and I have the ideal view of them as I watch through the window and forget that I’m on a conference call for work.

After visiting Chanticleer Gardens last summer, I vowed to add more Thalictrum (Meadow Rue) for pops of height and I did just that this week. That stem color is unbeatable.

And the flowers aren’t too shabby either.

My garden is loaded with Amsonia (if somethings works, keep doing that) and most are in bloom right now. I need to find something to plant in front of these to hide the lower sections and preferably something that will be a killer companion when these shine all yellow in the fall. Hmm.

Allium still holding on.

Baptisia are nearing full bloom and again, as is a common theme today, I know I desperately need to cover up their bare ugly legs here.

So much better when you can’t see the bottom.

Interesting observation here. The flowers in the foreground are from a baptisia that reseeded and those in the background are from the original plant. Definitely prefer the darker shade and foliage of the original.

Gardening, as we all know, is full of surprises, both positive and negative. The white irises below were a surprise, having emerged within a massive grouping of Joe Pye Weed that has yet to fully emerge. I had planted these more than 10 years ago and haven’t seen any blooms from them in years. Nice.

A report from the fraudulent Markowski garden

Posted on by Posted in Comedy .

We here at WNJHHN (New Jersey Hard Hitting News) take pride in covering the news stories YOU want to know about. The stories YOU need to know about. So we went under cover, posing as a Meter Reader, to explore the Markowski garden and frankly, it was worse than expected. Here are our findings:

John Markowski, commonly known around these parts as, The Obsessive Neurotic Gardener or ONG for short (we’ll save our findings on whether or not he violated copyright law by using that acronym in a future exposition), claims to be an experienced and well thought out gardener. His blog posts would lead you to believe that his garden is lush, well designed and free from the struggles the typical gardener faces on a daily basis like critter destruction and weeds. As you’ll see, that is a farce.

The man claimed to be above using a Spirea in his garden. It was too commonly used by landscapers and not all that “dynamic” (his words) yet what do we have here:

Did you run out and purchase some Phlox plants when Mr. Markowski led you to believe that they were “ignored by the deer”? Would you want a refund if you knew this is how ALL of his Phlox look right now? We’re not above initiating a class action lawsuit on behalf of all you loyal readers.

For years, ONG has waxed poetic about how his Baptisia plants, we believe the term is “reseeded” leading to many more plants in his garden. These so called “free plants” were reviled as a money saver and an opportunity to fill your garden up with “sparkling blue flowers that will take your breath away and bring in the bees”. Did you know that these “free” plants look like this?

Not what you expected, right? Could the stems look any weaker? For those of you who followed this dangerous advice, are you spending all weekend digging out the tough to extract seedlings? Could your time have been better spent doing other garden chores? Did we mention lawsuit?

Ask John if you can see all of the other buds on this peony plant. Spoiler: the other two you see hidden in this pic have already faded so there aren’t any. Think you’ll see a follow-up on this? You won’t.

Does this look like the garden of a self-proclaimed expert? Do we need to count the visible weeds? This is only one example we documented. Trust us, this is the norm and not the exception.

And finally, an image that we think encapsulates the fraud that is John Markowski’s garden. If we had to rename his garden, “Standing water with grass clippings” is about as good as it gets.

So there you have it. We’ve got more but we’ll withhold for our upcoming documentary. Just remember, if you feel you’ve been wronged (and you have), please contact WNJHHN and we”ll get you started on well-deserved compensation.

She’s starting to fill in

Posted on by Posted in Spring .

Less and less bare earth makes me more and more happy.

The Bluebells are in full bloom and a blue sight for sore eyes along my front walkway. Question for you all: Do you recall where all your plants originally came from? There was a time when I could, but this old man’s memory has taken a hit. I have no recollection of ever planting these bulbs and where they came from. May need to scour my old posts to get the answer.

‘Espresso’ geraniums are all flowering with those pink flowers shining against the chocolate background.

Speaking of ye old cranesbill, the wild geraniums with their first flowers and the promise of many more to come.

The Golden Ragwort plants are all blooming. They’re nice and all but did they ever take over a few years back. F’n bullies. They grow on top of and underneath everything. I’ve been trying to eradicate most of them but left a few in strategic places for the flowers in early spring. That shortsighted strategy unfortunately resulted in more unwanted plants. I may dig ’em all up and use as a section of large filler in the waterlogged area of the garden where nothing survives.

The first to emerge, allium flower.

The Baptisia have popped through the soil and before long, I’ll have massive quantities of those killer blooms. I do have a few that seeded and showed up in unwanted places and realize these gals have a very deep taproot so it won’t be easy to move them. But I’ll try.

The Ninebark ‘Amber Jubilee’ (no, she wasn’t named after a stripper, at least as far as I know) shines with killer new orange foliage. The white flowers in late spring are ‘eh’ but the dynamic leaf color changes in spring/summer/fall are worth the price of admission.

The willow leaved sunflowers are heaven on earth. Close to ten feet tall with ooodles of blooms in the late summer but almost as important, the foliage provides great cover against weeds in early spring. This makes me very happy.

Another great weed cover is bee balm. I have it everywhere and you’ll get no complaints from this guy. If any of the plants get attacked with powdery mildew in summer, you know what I do? Nothing. I don’t care. They did what they needed to do. That’s called progress for a once obsessive and neurotic gardener.

Speaking of weed cover, daylillies do the same but I so don’t like them. I may painstakingly cut off the flowers all spring/summer and just allow the foliage to act as filler. I can’t toss them but those blooms are so ugly and yucky and boring and mushy and …

A few weeks back I wrote a post about Britt-Marie (Ligularia) and how the foliage never delivered the promised dark purple color. Well, this isn’t too shabby and I’ll be paying close attention to see how this changes as the weather warms up.

More spring joy

Posted on by Posted in Spring .

The Viburnum ‘Aurora’ is in full bloom.

The scent greets me every time I take the dog outside. She and I both love it.

Creeping phlox packing a punch as well. Please ignore the dandelion I missed. Just know I’m fully ashamed.

Mini hyacinths flowering their asses off.

Common scene throughout the garden: spring bulbs backed by dead grasses. Helps cover up for some time before the grasses kick into gear.

Allium ‘Purple Sensation’ rapidly approaching bloom and I’m here for it.

I have an unhealthy love for peony foliage after it emerges. I’ll say no more.

A new obsession of mine is Filipendula (Meadowseet). I’ve added close to a dozen to the garden within the past year. Foliage is great and the height, when in bloom, works well in the middle to back of a bed.

Wild Geranium foliage has fully emerged and here’s hoping the divisions from last spring will thrive and avoid the interest of the deer.

Sprung has springed

Posted on by Posted in Perennials, Spring .

I couldn’t use the “spring has sprung” cliché. I’m so above that.

But yes, I finally got out in the garden this weekend and kicked off “Operation Clean Up Before the Weeds Take Over and I Become Easily Defeated”. Also commonly known as OCUBWTOIBED (pronounced ok-you-bwi-toy-bed).

I’m thrilled to report that each and every Lady’s Mantle that had been divided and transplanted in the fall has returned. I magically turned 3 into 15 and when they all mature it’s going to be a killer scene on a rainy spring day with the raindrops emanating like sparkly diamonds into the garden-sphere.

I’m also proud of the sitch I created below where the white daffodils bloom in spring, clearly in view as one approaches my front door and once they’re spent, the fast growing Sedum covers them up so they can fade into oblivion without the need for me to remove the gnarly foliage.

I have so many grasses to cut down. It’s overwhelming and a frickin mess as the deadness blows all over the yard/street/town/county before I can gather it up and dispose of it. I managed to get through a few yesterday but we got a long way to go. It’s worth it, right?

I love to see my perennials spread year over year. Yes it can be excessive at times but I’m here for the challenge. Fill it all up you beautiful bastards, like the Monarda encroaching the Sedum below.

Creeping phlox is creeping towards bloom and creeping towards the front walkway to cover and soften it in purple deliciousness, just as I planned it years ago.

This legit has me giving myself repeated high-fives. The year over year increase in Allium bulbs is super exciting. I can’t wait to share the blooms with you in a few weeks.

Call me crazy, but I didn’t prune back any of the branches on this Ninebark this spring. I want to see just how big it can really get. Although that may make it a focal point, but in a bad way. We’ll see.

First bud/bloom on the Viburnum is here. No scent yet, but it’s coming and it will be delightful.

Ligularia ‘Britt-Marie Crawford’

Posted on by Posted in Perennials .

Have you ever entered someone’s home and after a quick scan of the surroundings, said to yourself “The 90’s called and they want their home décor style back.” Or “Is this house used for filming a TV show that is set in the 80’s?” Or “Shit, that’s a lot of stainless steel.”

If not, you’re a better human than me.

I think you might have a similar thought if you were to walk through my garden. Not that I’ve ever tried to keep up with whatever was in style or the hot look of the moment. I’m not that in tune. But you would witness a ton of dark-leaved shrubs and perennials which may have been the preferred foliage style of a time passed by.

I could go on and on with the pics, but you get the point. I can’t get enough of the darker foliage. It catches my eye at every nursery visit. It makes me stop in my tracks as I leaf through a plant catalog. And I’ve assumed all along that everyone shared this same sentiment.

But maybe many of you have moved on. Maybe it was a trend and I was oblivious to it ending? John, you’re garden is like, so 2008. I honestly don’t know.

And I honestly don’t give a you-know-what.

Give me brown leaves, give me dark red leaves, give me some chocolate leaves. They make me happy.

And this is why I’ve been so frustrated with my Ligularia ‘Britt-Marie Crawford’.

Quick aside: Has a friend or neighbor or nosy stranger ever asked you the name of a plant in your garden and you hesitated before sharing the name? Do you internally debate how to craft the answer? Do you go with the common name? The botanical name? Do you include the cultivar name like “Britt-Marie Crawford”? If you do include the cultivar name do you state it with confidence or with a hint of embarrassment? I tend to stick to common names so I don’t sound like an elitist but the problem is I don’t know the common names for most plants.

Moving on.

Actually, one more aside, a note on the cultivar name: This plant was first discovered by Britt-Marie Crawford growing in a plot of Ligularia dentata ‘Othello’ in Fife, Scotland, United Kingdom. After her death, her husband, James Crawford, took steps to honor his wife by naming the cultivar after her and introducing it into commerce.

Now that is love.

Really moving on this time.

My Leopard plant (yes I had to look the common name up) has lived in at least five locations within my garden since I purchased it on-line years ago. It wasn’t until I found a spot that receives afternoon shade and isn’t visited by the deer that it thrived.

But I didn’t acquire it for the green leaves and yellow flowers. I honestly don’t like yellow flowers all that much. I bought it for that bold red/purplish-black/maroon foliage. I wanted it to be a focal point. And to date, that hasn’t happened.

This is what I wanted to see. This is what I was promised.

And while the leaf shape is fantastic and unique, I still long for that darker shade.

I’ll even trade in the flowers in exchange for my desired leaf color.

Please flood the comments with your experience with this perennial. Super curious to see what you all have to say.

Buttonbush (Cephalanthus ‘Sugar Shack’)

Posted on by Posted in Shrubs .

Back in the day, when I was posting here regularly, I consumed myself with SEO (Search Engine Optimization). If I focused on one particular plant within a post, I made sure I repeated that plant name as often as possible, to ensure the “keyword” was accounted for. I linked and captioned every photo. I reduced the total number of words within my posts to ensure I sat in the “right zone” according to Google rules. I dumbed down my prose to improve my “readability” score.

And it all worked.

I kept a close eye on my site traffic, refreshing the numbers every few minutes, specifically to learn how readers found me through Google searches. I was able to pull in long time readers who originally found me through a search on Miscanthus gracillimus or Northern Sea Oats.

But I’m done with that shit.

I’m no longer seeking garden blog dominance and my plans to rule the blogosphere have been set aside. Now I want to write the way I want to write. You don’t need a bulleted list of facts from me that you could easily look up yourself through Google. You need me showing you how a plant performed for me specifically and you need me rambling on and on about whatever I want to ramble about when it comes to that plant.

So let’s dive in, shall we?

Have any of you seen the movie Sharp Objects? Or read the book of the same name? If not, are you familiar with the syndrome, “Munchausen by Proxy”?

Never mind, if you don’t know, don’t look it up. Forget I mentioned it.

Okay fine, I’ll attempt to explain:

I buy a lot of small shrubs, grasses and perennials from online plant purveyors. They’re more affordable than the full-sized option at a nursery and I also enjoy “raising” the plant. Nothing is more rewarding than watching a tiny plug evolve into a massive flowering shrub or a towering ornamental grass. It makes me proud as a plant parent.

OK, work with me here. This is where the “Munchausen by Proxy” things comes into play:

I have a dirty secret. There are times, more than I care to admit, where I knowingly stick a new plant in the ground with no plans to nurture the little guy. I want to see if it’s strong enough to survive without my loving and tender care. A test of will, if you will. You’re on your own buddy.

For those plants that struggle and fail the survival test, I purposely ignore them and allow them to become more and more “sick” until the last possible moment. Then I do all I can to bring it back to life from the brink of death. It warms my heart when I push aside the tattered and brown stems and leaves and spot new green growth along a stem. Once I see that, I’m all in and like a parent, will fight a deer if I have to in order to ensure that plant’s future safety.

Is it twisted to allow your plant to suffer to only then save it so you feel like a nurturing gardener? Yes.

Is it morally wrong? Probably.

Will I continue to do it? Now that I’ve confessed, no. I’m not proud and I understand it’s a selfish gesture.

Does the Munchausen by Proxy analogy here make any sense at all? I’ll let you be the judge.

I subjected a Buttonbush (Cephalanthus Sugar Shack) to this test a few years back. After receiving the tiny shrub in the mail from Bluestone Perennials, I struggled to find the proper space for it. Struggled because I had no room left in my garden for any new plants. I’m sure none of you can relate to that.

Without much thought, I dug a small hole with my trusty trowel, shoved it in the ground and moved on. Here’s your test young plant, show me how bad you want it.

Fast forward a few years and while weeding one morning, I almost yanked the shrub out of the ground mistaking it for one of those monster weeds that like to threaten my garden every spring. But fortunately, I didn’t. While it looked weak, it did display some new green growth after I teased off the brown and decaying foliage. I would give the still unidentifiable plant a few weeks to prove it was okay and prove it wasn’t just another weed.

And it did.

I took a photo and cross-referenced it against everything I had purchased online over the past few years. It didn’t take long to realize it was a Buttonbush and it had stood the test of time with no issues with the poorly drained soil and frequent visits from critters.

And it was this past summer when it truly shined.

Not only were the “buttons” or blooms striking, but so were the green glossy leaves and growth habit. It is now a focal point amongst summer blooming perennials and of course, a few ornamental grasses.

But back to the flowers. They emerge a yellowish-green, quickly transforming into beautiful balls of white.

When fully developed, the blooms are a beautiful creamy white, an inch or so in diameter and man are there are oodles of them.

After the blooms are spent in late summer, they transform to a reddish fruit which gives the shrub an entirely new look and feel.

Admittedly, I didn’t get enough good photos of this shrub in late summer/fall but will not make that same fatal mistake this year.

Here are the plant details from the Bluestone Perennials website with my own comments added in bold:

A prized native now in a manageable size. Continuous interest and color provide a spectacular show from spring through fall. This compact Buttonbush dons white sweetly scented ball-shaped blooms (I have no sense of smell so can’t comment here). Red fruit follows in late summer (have witnessed the “fruit” and it’s glorious). New foliage emerges glossy red (yes, but no photos so again bad miss on my part), progresses to green and then turns burgundy in the fall (fall color a bit underwhelming to date). Cute as a button! Proven Winners® selections are trialed and tested to be colorful, long blooming, carefree and easy to grow. Adapts well to multiple conditions. The bright red fruit of C. Sugar Shack® is showcased against the pristine white of a snowy winter providing four-season interest. Loves a boggy wet spot (Can I get an Amen?).

Cephalanthus occidentalis are a species of deciduous flowering shrubs with a rounded habit in the coffee family. Reliable performers, fine in a watered bed, Buttonbush are perfectly at home in a naturalized landscape where excess moisture is present-shallow water at the edge of ponds, near water gardens or in a boggy site. A great nesting spot for songbirds (still anxiously waiting).

Extremely low maintenance. No pruning required unless desired. Blooms on new wood so trimming is best done in early spring. Flowers are pollinated by insects, so fruit occurs effortlessly and reliably (hope you’re right plant people).

The only issue I’ve seen to date is that it sprawled a bit towards the end of the summer and a bare spot opened up within the middle of the shrub. I’ll need to do some detailed research on how to best prune this beauty.

Has anyone else had experience growing this shrub? What are your thoughts? Any tips or advice?

A walk along the Delaware River

Posted on by Posted in Uncategorized .

Moving forward on this blog, I’ll do my best to not bore and inundate you with age-related rants and complaints. I know that story gets old and uninteresting real fast.

But that’s where we’ll begin today.

Turning 50 freaked me out. You know this from a prior post, so no need to dwell on it. Although I just did.

Here’s the deal: I’m not going to crumble, I’m not going to feel sorry for myself. I vow to push myself physically. I vow to weed like a spry 28 year old. I vow to move plants around with reckless abandon like I did in my 30’s.

And I vow to traverse the entirety of the Appalachian Trail by my lonesome.

J/k.

I’ll start smaller, just like I did a few months back when I completed a 15-mile hike along the Delaware River, via the Delaware Canal. It’s a spot my wife and I visit often for its tranquility and killer views. But our walks never extended beyond 2-3 miles. This walk 5 x’d that.

So after a shit week at work, I feigned illness and took off a Friday in November. The day was too ideal to ignore. Low 60’s and nothing but sun. Shorts and a t-shirt were all I needed. My wife dropped me off at the start of the planned 15.2 mile walk at Tinicum Park in Pennsylvania and she would then pick me up in New Hope, PA where my stroll would be ending.

With camera in hand and a shit-eating grin on my face, I headed off.

And within three minutes, I spotted a blue heron (I think?) and spent minutes trying to find the right angle for a pic. Yeah nature! And yeah birds!

I love abandoned locations and abandoned things. I’m obsessed with it. I watch You Tube videos of abandoned theme parks, abandoned zoos and abandoned hospitals. I don’t understand the appeal and should probably dive deeper to grasp why.

Some of my abandoned finds during the hike:

I need to know the decision making behind the individual who last stepped out of this vehicle and said “I’ll just leave this here.” And when did it topple on to its side? Does anyone have plans to move this at some point? Are they procrastinating?

You tell me “Keep out” and I read “Come on in”. I didn’t enter but may do so during the next walk. I regret chickening out.

I’m not paranoid and I’m not taking poetic license by saying this: I saw glowing eyes in the window all the way to the left. I felt it to my core. And it kicked ass.

I stepped off the path and wandered through this building hoping to be attacked or accosted by a spirit or a raccoon.

Spoiler: nothing happened.

I’ve watched all the Big Foot and Sasquatch documentaries so this holds a special place in my heart.

I was close to twenty feet below the road’s surface when I snapped this photo. That is some flood.

How good must this party have been?

I never tire of the views found on the trail. Here’s looking toward New Jersey.

This was taken in by the town/hamlet of Point Pleasant, PA. So f’n cute, right?

And then Heaven arrived. The trail winded behind a nursery. I contemplated buying a few small trees but wasn’t sure how I’d carry them for ten more miles.

I watched this guy work in the nursery for a few minutes while I shoved two power bars down my throat. That’s my retirement job some day. And some day is a long way’s away, right? Right.

Owners of this adorable home, invite me in for coffee or tea or something even stronger. Please.

Exactly half way though the hike, the path ended in Upper Black Eddy, PA with no means to continue on. My plan to end in New Hope, PA was to include a few beers at a local brewery and now I was stymied. My only option was to turn around and head back to where I came from. Probably should have done a bit of research before I headed out.

By the time I finished, my thighs and calves burned and the bottoms of my feet were afire with soon to be popping blisters. But my friends, it was oh so worth it.

15 miles down.

30 miles next. With better shoes.

Until next time Delaware Canal.