These weekend days are full to overflowing.  With the great weather has come some real work in the yard and the inside of my house is showing a bit of neglect as we spend these last golden days outside. I try not to think about it as I know there are days ahead when staying inside is the only option. 

Feeling a little overwhelmed with the woods, I called my sister-in-law over to sit on the steps with me a bit and brainstorm my landscaping. She has spent more time in these woods than I and knows the history. I invited my neighbor over to sit on the steps and brainstorm a bit as she sees directly into our woods.  Both these ladies have completely different aesthetics than each other, as well as different than mine, and I wanted to hear their thoughts, ideas, answer questions, ask questions.

After walking the yard with my sister-in-law and discussing first goals, I transplanted a small Japanese Maple tree to an area to get more sun and I began planning an arbor using removed tree limbs and small trees.  I thinned out more maple saplings and fed the transplanted rhododendron starts.  Hubs has a plan for part of the area where the rhododendron had been so I began to think that over.  I started parking on this side of the house, to get a feel for making that change.

I looked at the woods and the yard with renewed vision and a slightly different mindset as the weekend drew to a close.  I've watched the sunlight move across these woods this morning and it is nothing short of spectacular.  This is already a haven, and I don't wish to overthink it or overwork it, but I will care for it, manage it and maybe concentrate a little less on transforming it too much.  Nature will take the lead, the sun will lend her voice and the woods will be the stage.   I’ll be more stage manager than stage mother!   

I'm just wild about Harry.

We are going through some changes in the yard and reviewing some plans to update the exterior of the house a bit and maybe even building an addition to our living room.  As is our way, we discuss plans, talk about timing, review the plan, change the plan, talk about timing, think about space, review the plan. You get it. We procrastinate.  We are slow to pull the trigger, as the saying goes, as we don't always see eye to eye and one of us will have one of those sit-up-in-bed from a sound sleep BRILLIANT ideas which throws a final draft of a plan talked about for weeks right out the window. We've gotten use to working this way over the years, and yes, it has delayed us from time to time.  

Currently, while the two areas of dirt I wrote about in previous posts are big topics, we have at least three other areas outside that are currently, or will be soon, undergoing some changes.   I've spent a fair amount of time over the years working in some flower beds whose plantings are coming out. In order to prepare for the upcoming remodeling, I'm planning on transplanting a lot from my current beds to the other sides of the house.  I hope I am able to save a few things that I have grown to really love over the last few years but I know there are a few that will be lost.  

One of these is a curly branched bush called Harry Lauder Walking Stick, with a biological name of something-something Contortia, or something.  I love this plant.  It is far too big for its current space and will likely not survive a transplanting. At least, not by someone who is as willy-nilly with the transplanting rules as I am, but I have to try. I may not be able manage this bush alone, not like I will be able to do with a couple azaleas and many hosta that are marked for moving.  

The main reason why I love this plant is because my mother-in-law had one.   It's still at the house and in a spot she once told me was the best place for it, protected, a bit off a path and out of the wind. She reported it was a difficult bush to get started.  I love the gnarly, curling branches, named for a vaudeville comedian who was known for his twisted walking stick. As soon as I got the opportunity, and the money, at least twenty years ago, I bought a small bush and planted it in a new flower bed.  I knew nothing about bushes, landscaping or what would grow. I only knew I wanted a Harry Lauder Walking Stick.  

I planted it too close to the house, of course, too close to the deck, too exposed to the elements.  It wasn't suppose to grow in that location, but it flourishes.  My mother-in-law and I discussed how it shouldn't be doing as well, I believe it has outgrown hers, and who knows why.  If it were two feet further out or to the left or right, it probably would not have grown like it has, but it loves that spot.  

That spot will be turned over for another use and Harry will go with it.  I'm reluctant, to say the least,  and although I will try to move it I have this feeling wherever I try will not be quite right.  I do have a place in mind and will undertake the move in the spring.  Now, hubs is practical here and says no worries, if it doesn't make it, we'll buy another and start new. 

It's not the same though.  I was young when I bought that plant and wanted to prove to my mother-in-law that I was worthy of the property, of the home that had been the home of her mother, that I could plant and tend, cultivate and grow.  My mother-in-law was impressed with my Harry and told me so.  To let him go is a big deal, a big decision and I'll spend a bit of time thinking it all through.   

Preparing for the next phase.

While I have been working on the beast, hubs has been working in another part of our yard on the other side of the house.   What’s left, for or by us both, is two big areas of dirt.  Deciding on what to do in the dirt is my new occupation and distraction.   Hubs looks at me like I’ve grown a tree stump of my own, right on top of my head, when I even mention replanting something, even grass…okay, and maybe some flowers.  And a bush.

      

I get it. It’s backbreaking to remove old, overgrown bushes and trees, their stumps and roots.  I get it.  However, I also get that we can’t just have two big patches of dirt in the yard, waiting for something, most likely undesirable, to fill it in.   That doesn't seem wise, because it will fill in, oh yes, it will fill in.

I also get that it’s not that easy as we are blessed with shade from big oak trees.  Beautiful and stately, although maybe too close to the house, and its tough to grow things.  We are also cursed with maple trees, soft maples with big fat branches that the trunk can’t seem to support, which drop those same limbs, dangerous and carefree.  Trees that have those funny little twirling helicopter seed pods that seem to grow wherever they land.  Problem: maple trees are like weeds, like parasites, and choke out every other living thing there, except maybe poison ivy.

 

I challenged hubs to a contest of sorts last week.  I bet, I said, we could pull out maple trees, at least 10, every day for a month and still have maple saplings and small trees to spare.  He didn't agree. That’s 300 trees! Now, I haven’t gone into the woods every day this week to pull out trees but the evening of this challenge I went into the woods and easily pulled up 25 maple saplings, all under 2 feet tall, from about a 10-foot square area.  Until they are about 30 inches or so tall, maple saplings can be pretty easily removed, thank goodness.Bunched up in two hands and headed for the burning pile, I shook them at hubs as I walked by, victorious and gloating, like pom poms.  Go, me!    

While bending over and yanking out these little maple trees, which I have to admit is hard on the heart, they are baby trees for crying out loud, even if they are weed-like, and it’s against my nature but has to be done, I began to compare clearing out these areas like life, like my life.  Change is afoot, and I am preparing for the next phase.  Careful planning is needed, thoughtfulness, decisiveness and even protection, because it will fill in, oh yes, it will fill in.   

The battle continues.

I didn’t write a post last week as I had missed Sunday and Monday for the holiday.  By Tuesday I was well beyond thinking about blog posts but I wanted to catch you up on one of my projects ~ the removal of the gigantic rhododendron. 

This bush, which, as you may recall, housed many a bird, bunny and cat over the years had just gotten way, way too big.  It is in a part of the yard that isn’t used much, sure, but it had been taking over that part for too long and now spanned about 25-feet across, and maybe 12-feet high.   When we were working on cleaning up the tree that fell in the storm I wanted to see how difficult it would be to snip off a branch ~ I was able to walk right into this bush, standing up and just moving branches away as I moved to the center.  That’s crazy.  We’ve talked about taking it out for the last couple of years but it wasn’t a priority.  This year was the show close, however, and after the tree fell, which changed the light and the feel of the driveway, this was the time for the boot for the rhododendron.

Last week I began cutting back the branches, working my way around and around.  Almost like I was trimming the monster instead of trying to get closer to its center root system, I snipped and pulled, snipped and pulled, taking away wheelbarrow load after load, I  snipped off branches, bigger and bigger, around and around.  I committed to working every day for at least an hour, even if it were rainy, and soon I was left with shoots, some runners, circling the big “core” of the plant. (Yes, this is about the time I had to enlist the services of my trusted assistant, hubs, to manage the big, fat, well-rooted branches) Big, branches, more than I could handle with the loppers, stood solid, taller than I and ready to remain steadfast.  The undergrowth that remained, a LOT of the runners, had been freed and feeling sunshine for the first time, the leaves turned bright and healthy, not knowing the fate that lay ahead.  Oh, raise your faces to the sun now, for in another day or so, you will be but kindling for the next big bonfire.

Funny thing about this bush is there were no bird’s nests, no bunnies scurrying about, no cats or kittens.  Not one living thing. I had expected to feel some guilt, some Audobonian remorse, but there wasn’t a creature that stirred.  Even the bees that had circled the plant on my first night had dispersed.  I had been fully prepared to battle those bees, if needed, or at least, always had a clear path to get the heck out.

As I removed the runners, and there were many, children of the mother plant that would flourish if planted and cared for, I became hesitant to totally ditch this behemoth.  How long had it been here? Maybe sixty or seventy years.  Who was I to take it out?  I contemplated what to do, began thinking of the woods and the many dogwood trees that have suffered from blight or bug and have thinned to near non-existence.  I admired the ease of pulling big, healthy, rooted shoots of Mother Rhoda and decided to transplant a few, into the woods. 

I think I moved 7, but already one looks not so much inclined to root in a new spot.  I planted a couple near my bridge, and I really hope they “take”.  I’ll tend to them this fall, and keep them well watered over the next couple months.  I’ll pile oak leaves around and maybe even a fence in case the deer decide rhododendron leaves and buds are perfect for the digestion.  I’ll care for you, so you can flourish.  I’ll care for you, so you can grow, children of the monster.