It suddenly dawned on me, with the terrible clarity that can only come with advancing age, that it might just be possible that I have no more room for new plants in the garden.
Every square millimeter of soil is spoken for. I’m not sure what to do next. I could plant more plants in the other two gardens I “maintain” (ie, glance at once a month), but then the plants wouldn’t be mine. I could wait a week or so until all the new plants I’ve put in here this year are dead, and then buy more, but I don’t care for that idea so much.
Plants in containers are the obvious solution. I’d get more summer color that way, and I like the look of the echeverias I recently jammed into a pot so the garden wouldn’t look like nothing but a bunch of dried-up sticks.
The garden staff would have to water more, but I have a watering wand especially for containers. (Brass, made in England. Fancy.) Maybe a trip to Indochine in Boulder is indicated here; the warehouse site offers a spectacular view of the Indian Peaks, too. (You have to turn around to see them. Drive west down the hill, toward the mountains, and there they are. Can’t see them from Boulder.)