The Very Big Things in My Garden

This is what I like to see:

Big fat worms in my compost bay. I turned it today and there are dozens of these big guys along with two kinds of red worms, and a smaller version of this whopper. At first I thought it was a snake because it was so active. (I'm wearing gloves; it looks like I have some kind of skin disease, but that's not the case. Or that I'm a zombie.)

This is the compost set up. Three bays made of stacked cement blocks, with gaps between the bottom two courses for air circulation. 

It's based on what Monty Don does at Longmeadow in England, modified for a much smaller garden. But...he has five bays and I think sometimes I'd like another bay. The first is about halfway through its process, the second a bit behind. The last bay, which looks empty, has a bit of finished compost, which gets used more like a chunky mulch. Just visible behind the back wall are the wire cages I dump everything in. When the lawn gets mowed, the contents of those cages gets chopped up by the mower in an effort to speed up the composting process. We shred cardboard boxes and add them when there are no leaves. I also am experimenting with using shredded cardboard as mulch. The verdict is still out on that. It's fine when it's fresh and fluffy, then if I walk on it, it gets compressed. And if I shred anything other than brown, the colored bits show up from a long way away. 

There are other big things here at Lily Hill:

I've been calling these big spiders wolf spiders, but I believe I am wrong, and they are fishing spiders. Regardless, they are big. As in that's a 2 inch wide brick. There are three of these on the sides of the house. I like them; my son has a phobia and is not in the least interested in them. I find them beautiful.

What I do not find beautiful, but rather alarming, is this giant poison ivy vine:

Each individual leaflet is bigger than my hand. The width from point to point of the three together is as wide as my shoulders. The vine is up at last 20 feet or more into the tree it's attached to. It's also going to be in flower. It's the only PI I've seen that's had flowers. I think this might be the mother lode, the one that's responsible for all the babies that pop up. Birds eat the berries, but I've never seen any other plants with berries. This is, literally, the root of all evil. My plan is to spray the plant with Round Up, wait for it to wilt, and then don my HazMat suit and go cut the vines, and paint them with Round Up. Maybe, just maybe, I can make a dent in the population. This is the only thing I will spray. When they get this big I can't risk just attacking them with brute force. I'm extremely allergic to PI and this massive thing looks like a potential trip to the ER.

Now, for a change, here is someone who's very beautiful (and yes, I call cats who, even though the style manuals say to refer to them as "something that is beautiful". They are my friends. She is a who.)

This is Mary, one of the indoor/outdoor cats. She came to us as a tiny kitten when her mother Poppy decided we were a good home for her and her family. We suspect Poppy and her kittens were a dump. We live on a rather remote road. Cats and dogs are dumped. Cats find me; dogs find our neighbor.

Imperfections are part of life...

The Making of Lily Hill

The short version of the story is this: My mother, son and I moved to Kentucky in the fall of 2012.

It seems like it was just a few months ago, and when I look at what I've done with this little bit of Kentucky, it looks (to me) that I've done nothing. Others see progress and pretty flowers and brambles pushed back. I tend to see weeds and poison ivy and brambles still here and all the things that need to be done. I'm usually a coffee cup half full kind of person, but here I only see things I haven't done.

But getting back to the garden. Or gardens. In the English tradition I tend to name them. The Pagan Circle (also the Compass Circle, because it does have a compass set in brick). The Side Garden. The Lily Garden. The Iris Bed. The Borders. The place in the front that gets full sun. I have a lot of ideas and plans; what I don't have is time. Or patience. And sometimes the physical ability to do what I want. I'm working with a new hip as of 2015, a heart that beats to its own rhythm at times, and a spine that is slowly crumbling.

I started working on the front bed in the spring of 2013. The flowers below are all in that full sun bed. It had a full-sized prickly pear cactus and a giant yucca. Frankly, we were scared of the prickly pear. And I didn't know what the yucca was then so I dug it out and threw it away. Luckily some roots survived.

The next year was buying more plants and tearing out the ivy that covered the north side of the house and chimney, and that covered the ground (that's the big bank of green). Buried in there were random fieldstone rocks. After we cleared everything the man who fills the propane tank actually thanked us. It was the first time he hadn't tripped over rocks.

Next post I'll add a picture of what that area looks like now. I have to weed first, because I'm self-conscious about having a less than perfect photo. And weeds do not make for a perfect photo.

But there are flowers:

A lily, because this is Lily Hill:

This lily lives next to the rose in the blog header. They were bought at different times but ended up near each other. It's this year that I'm working on color combinations. That lily and that rose. 

This daylily with this lily.

And so on and so on. And hopefully they create something beautiful. 

One plant at a time. 

And then another. 

And the patience to see it through. 

And the patience with myself, to allow the imperfections.

And the occasional weed.

Poison Ivy

What better day to start a log than Friday the 13th:

Gardening in Kentucky is turning into a bit more of a challenge than I anticipated. First off is the poison ivy. It's everywhere. My previous garden was in an urban setting. I'm now in the middle of the woods, on a property where no one has tried to remove the PI in the last decade or so.

So it's everywhere. And since it's so much warmer here so early in the year, I'm out in the garden well before last year's bare stems have leafed out. As a result, I've had pretty much consistent poison ivy rash from spring through fall.

And then there are brambles. And Japanese honeysuckle. All intertwined with bindweed and vetch. And I wonder why I'm weary of the task of clearing the little hillside before I even begin.

So today Alex started the weed whacker for me and I edged the much neglected edges. And, in what I edged, I'm pretty sure I whacked up some poison ivy.

So, to end this Friday the 13th on a better note: a picture of a cat.

This is Hargett. (Ignore the weeds). I saw him at the corner gas station, leaned out the window and said "Hey, all the free chicken you can eat." (We feed a raw chicken cat food.) And then gave him my address. A couple days later my mom called me upstairs, opened the door and said, "There's a cat here to see you." And there he was.