After I left meeting yesterday, I stopped at the garden center to see if they had any hydrangeas on sale. My plan for the phlox bed that I just cut down is to turn it into a hydrangea bed. The garden center had been having a sale, and all of the hydrangeas were gone. Nuts. But I really need to do a lot of work in that bed before I plant much in it - need to get in there and dig up old those old phlox roots and till up the soil and (Mother Nature forgive me) use some weed killer next spring to nix the new plants. So, I came home, changed clothes and went outside to work in the yard. Land sakes, this place is a jungle!
When I was younger and dumber, I mail-ordered 48 English ivy plants, intending to plant them along the edge of the back yard, which drops off into a gulley. The plan was to stop erosion. Being in a tree line, the digging was hard, and after planting a couple of dozen plants, I scraped out one large patch of bare ground and buried the rest of the ivy in a mass grave.
It was years before the ivy really took off. When it finally did, it took off straight up the trees instead of crawling across the ground as I had intended. Most of the trees along the gully are now covered in ivy and more than a few have died and fallen; whether this is the fault of the ivy or the fault of growing on the edge of a gulley, I don't know; it may be a combination of both. And it seems we are losing more of our back yard every year. In one place, ivy growing from the ground up has intertwined with ivy dangling down from tree limbs and created an impenetrable curtain, behind which probably lives lord-knows-what kind of wildlife. Weaving through all that mess is a grapevine with a trunk as big around as my arm. Yesterday, I attacked the ivy with the weed whacker, starting with the ivy closest to the mown area, and hacked my way into the jungle. When the trimmer string broke for about the fifth time, I gave up, but I'd already reclaimed about 10 feet of lawn (until the ivy sprouts again).
After that, I divided and replanted some daylilies and some bulbs, set a mole trap, lopped down a bush that keeps growing at the corner of the driveway and impeding our view of oncoming traffic, and hacked some hydrangea limbs away from the HVAC unit. Never made it to the phlox bed.
When I cut back the hydrangea, it occurred to me that I ought to root my own hydrangeas with cuttings from those limbs. In the past, I've had about a 50/50 success rate with getting the cuttings to root. Of the survivors, none survived in the ground (possibly the fault of the lawnmower). But I watched a video about rooting hydrangea cuttings and decided to give it a try.
I was at the dollar store up the road, buying dirt, when Son #2 called to see if I was up to babysitting Granddaughters #3 and #4 for the evening so that the rest of the family could go to a football game. Of course, I said, "Of course!" and went to get them. Upon my arrival, Granddaughter #3 announced that she was spending the night at my house. Granddaughter #4 (the Little Rotten Baby) had just had her nap interrupted, and she was not in the best of moods. She squalled and tried to escape from the car seat half the way home, and at her normal bedtime, she had a minor meltdown, wanting her normal routine. But made her lie down with me on the bed and started telling her about Goldilocks and the Three Bears, using a deep Papa Bear voice and a squeaky Baby Bear voice, and she quit crying, got still, and listened to the rest of the story. It didn't work to get her to sleep, but it did make her forget that she was supposed to be pitching a hissy fit. She was asleep in my lap when her parents came to take her home.
Eight-year-old #3 (whom the LRB calls "Mar-Mar") stayed the night. She insisted on sleeping in The Husband's recliner instead of in the cute "girl room" I fixed up for the granddaughters. About 1 a.m., she shined an i-Pad in my face and said, "Grandmama, look, the i-pad says it's morning." I replied, "Technically, that's true, but it's too early in the morning. Go back to bed." She was asleep on the couch when I got up at 6. I tip-toed through the living room, poured a cup of coffee, took it out to the back porch. About an hour later, "Mar-Mar" found me. I set her to work making biscuits while I fried bacon and scrambled eggs. Later, we went shopping. As we were on our way home, Son #2 called, wanting to know if we'd watch the LRB again for a little while. I said, "Sure! Bring her on over."
This baby is a mess. Twenty months old, talks a blue streak, knows colors, can count to five (when she feels like it). Will tell you "NO!" in an instant. Needs a beating, and I'd give her one except she's so cute. ;) She's not big as a minute. Has a head full of curly hair and the sweetest smile you ever saw. She had a few mishaps today - bumped her lip on a bar stool that is exactly lip high, fell down a step, dripped chocolate syrup down her brand new shirt. By the time her daddy came to get her, she was asleep in my lap, wearing nothing but a diaper (I did stain treat and wash the new shirt).
And I am worn slam out.
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