Before the light rain came last night, I transplanted some flowers into the garden and into pots on the step. Unwisely, I did not set the mousetraps in the pots, thinking SadieSue by now may have figured out what’s what, and anyway she deserved a chance to see what was in them, once, without getting her nose snapped.
The first thing I did this morning was go look outside, as always, only to discover she’d dug up the pansies that were on the step. Goddamn Dog. My kindly housemate had already been out, seen the carnage, stuck the plants back into the pots, and given Sadie shit. Let us hope the pansies rebound. I won’t be making another trip to Yorkton to replace them, and it’s the only greenhouse where I found this particular type, the wave pansies. They are one of few plants hardy enough to stand up against the wind that will batter flowers on our step from time to time over the coming months.
I gave Sadie hell too, and she looked properly ashamed of herself.
Fortunately she didn’t dig up the pots left on the lawn so, while I’m unhappy, I’m not devastated. I’m also glad I didn’t plant the cosmos at the same time, as was the temptation. (You know, once you start, it’s hard to stop. I forced myself to put away my hand-spade and come in to make supper instead.) Taller, the cosmos might not be as tough as the pansies.
The perennial bed in front of the caraganas is looking stately and elegant at the moment. Most years, just at this point, a nasty storm comes up and flattens it all. So far this hasn’t happened, but I am prepared to accept the disappointment if it does. The plants always spring back, but never to their great heights before a wind- and rain-storm.
One oriental poppy is flashing orange out there this morning; and so it begins. It’s going to be a helluva show within the next few days, if only the weather and the f’n pup don’t mess it all up.
It’s fresh after the rain. I’m going to get dressed and go for a walk with … yes, wait for it … Goddamn Dog.