I know I  sprinkled a mixture of perennials out of a canister last year because i had been spending most of the spring and summer watching over a hospital/recovery patient and then having cataract surgery in Dayton and hadn’t done anything positive here in Kendallville at this lawn. I also know it was a half-hearted attempt to do something/anything botanically positive . . . and that I wouldn’t have to pay any more attention to it until spring came again and things spouted. I also lied to myself that perennials were like animals in the wild – they knew how to take care of themselves.

Well, spring came very late this year and with a lot of rain and everything outside started spouting green. It was then that I realized that most green sprouts look alike. A weed, a wildflower? And if were a wildflower, there were no little attached signs informing me of height, time of bloom, and so forth.

it wasn’t too bad in the beginning because they were all short and basic looking. But then, ACK, some things started getting really tall and others developed ugly leaves and I had no idea what to pull up or mow down and what to cultivate or stake. Now that it is late August, I can see that I got lucky in some of my guesses and, in others, wound up with tangled weeds sprouting new (DIY) seed packets. I’m still waiting on this one plant with cabbage-like foliage because I think in September it is supposed to have lovely blooms. They had better be lovely because I will be pissed if I have tolerated looking all summer at an ugly plant that might eat me in a science fiction movie and NOT at least ease my pain with a blossom or two.

I almost think packets of mixed perennial seeds should come with the warning: DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME.

And, if this perennial roulette game hasn’t been enough, I think I may have discovered that it is not wise to cut back grapevines unless you get all the roots out. Before the leaves came out last spring which would enable the grapevines to more efficiently grab onto hedge branches, Cameron and I spent hours separating  them out. Cameron got microscopic poison ivy and we both have been bombarded with exploding vine growth.

I am toying now with PLAN B, which involves buying some sort of trestle support system and letting them have an arbor of their own, so they will stay away from the hedge. I don’t think too highly of that idea; I think I made a forever enemy when I chopped them down last year and they are probably planning to encroach on everything, including the house. (Sometimes at night I think I can hear them growing and creeping closer and closer.)

My mother had a couple of grape arbors at the Lagrange House and she would actually make grape pies. Delicious grape pies. However, did you know that grape pies require a lot of work – you have to peel the grapes, for Heaven’s sake. I can daydream my way through snapping beans – not that I would do so without an older relative handing me a bag of beans and a pot and saying “Snap them.” Same thing with peas. I just can’t see myself peeling grapes. Admit it, you can’t see me peeling grapes; heck, you probably have a hard time seeing me pod peas.

I have to admit, thought, that when I was five, I would think, “Wow! I get to snap beans and pod peas.” I can ever remember being thrilled to stand on a stool and help my grandma wash dishes. WHO WAS I THEN???

Why did I admit that? Forget it, it will be easier that way.

I need little yellow gardener minions who scurry around doing master garden things and jabbering in their cute minion language. Too bad they don’t come in packages I can order from American Meadows . . . or Amazon Prime.