My rose bush did well last summer, this summer it didn't do so good. The long, cold winter followed by the long cold spring killed it. But all was not lost, new sprouts popped up from the roots. Last week, because of the warm weather, the buds finally opened and presented us with beautiful red roses. Then Chandler stomped it to death again. He has this thing where he walks around the yard while he's pooping. Saturday he walked himself into a dead end behind the grape vine, and the only way he thought he could get out was by going through that rose bush. Well, at least we got some nice flowers for the dining room table.
In other garden news, the
wild flowers that I planted, the ones that Mark keeps whining that they look
like weeds, are starting to show off. And the ginko tree that I planted three
years ago is now about ten feet high. I planted that thing when it was a stick
and came up to my navel. Now I'm looking up at it and wondering if I made a
mistake. I just read that they grow up to forty to seventy feet high, and forty
feet wide. That's bigger than my back yard, which is where I planted it. But
what the hell. I'll probably be dead or moved away before it gets that big. Or
worst case, I'll invest in a lightweight chainsaw and a sturdy ladder.
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