Could we get more suburban? I hope not. But really, I can't complain about such a friendly view, can I? Then again, looks can be deceiving. What do you think we hear when we open our front door? In summer, more than anything else, it’s usually the persistent hum of cicadas. For some reason, it sounds like the wild west to me. It doesn’t feel like it, though. No, it feels like a rainforest – hot, humid, and buggy.
It’s the time of year when I usually begin my boycott. I stop working outside from mid-July through mid-September. It’s simply too uncomfortable to spend long hours in the garden. This year, however, I’m on a rampage.
Once upon a time, our family lived on four acres in a restricted, rural, beautiful subdivision. The flower gardens were close to the house, which was in the center of the property. But the front yard was view enough. It was a pecan grove. To look positively lovely, all it required was mowing and edging.
But houses were few and far between and we rarely saw anyone.
Then, a few years ago, we moved to our small lot on a golf course. And wouldn’t you know, practically a zillion people pass by every day - front and back. Golfers could hardly care less, of course. I'm more worried about the front. People driving in and out of our neighborhood, kids walking to and from the school bus, people out for a stroll, a run, walking their dogs. Even the mail carrier comments on our garden. And our neighbors are a stone’s throw away.
So many people. They deserve a nice view when they pass our house. Our front garden will look like a gardener tends it. It will bring joy. Butterflies will flutter and birds will chirp.
One fine day. . .
The thing is, our house is north facing and there are four – FOUR – live oaks in the tiny front yard. It’s not large enough to properly support even one and the ground shows it. We have lots of shade, lots of roots, and more bare soil than grass. I want more flowers in our flower beds, it's true, but those bare patches are driving -- have driven -- me nuts. They are the reason I've delayed my summer boycott.
I was complaining about the problem to a friend from garden club – our wonderful Sugar Land Garden Club – and she told me that she used to have the same problem. She told me that she planted azaleas in all of her bare patches and it turned out beautifully. I trust her.
I'm the obsessive sort, so I've been learning a lot about azaleas. I'd share with you now, but I still have several flowering, evergreen shrubs to plant. I'll see you again soon!
I plot and I plan. I work under dangerous conditions. I am frequently under assault. At times, I might drop everything and run for cover. I strive to work towards the greater good.
Gardening in southeast Texas can be brutal. Heat, humidity, and potentially disease-carrying mosquitoes are problems for more than half the year and a dangerous combination in summer. That’s to say nothing of fire ants and other biting, stinging insects. Snakes, too, although they only make a rare appearance in my little garden. Poison ivy and oak are common and birds sow both generously.
Despite some uncomfortable conditions, I feel very protective of the wild in my garden. It’s important to know friend from foe, for example, venomous from nonvenomous snakes. Even then, it’s often not necessary to engage.
As for the bugs, it is not fine with us to hurt the good with the bad. Pesticides are banned. So are herbicides. Our beds, whether food or ornamental, are organic. And while our garden isn’t entirely native, we do have plenty of native plants that please the local wildlife as well as ourselves.
While every garden is different, they all offer challenges, pleasures, time with nature. Much like people, they have their good days and bad days, high seasons and low; and they can all be fun and beautiful if you love them enough.