The dog was restless last night. At first I thought he had tummy troubles, or had to go out, or that yet another mouse had been caught in the Tin Cat (very scary, and not so much fun for me to sneak outside and release the mouse into the frigid night air), but apparently he was hearing an owl (even scarier) and couldn’t sleep. So neither could I.
While the dog was listening intently, in case the owl knocked on the back door, I spent an excessive amount of time thinking about the Burlap Garden, which must be the ugliest garden I’ve ever seen, and that’s saying a lot.
When I looked at it this morning I was almost struck blind by the sheer hideousness of it. And to think I did this all by myself.
It did look better filled with rhododendrons, but the weirdness of that began to bother me, so out they went. Everything in a burlap cage is native to North America, west of the 100th meridian. That in itself doesn’t matter to me, but the water needs should be reduced to pretty much zero, which is what I want. And less weirdness.
Looking in the opposite direction, the rocks add to the overall picture in the same way that billboards add to a view of the countryside. They were “indigenous” rocks picked up somewhere and given to me years ago. Fool that I then was, I thought they would look good in the rock garden. They have to go, but where?
I comfort myself by remembering, as well as I can, that the rock garden I made a few years ago (minus the rocks) was, at the time, the world’s ugliest garden, and now it looks acceptable to me. Grassy chaos is what I’m after. (It’s a new style; it will catch on, eventually, don’t worry.)
So does this.
Oh, the little flag (two pictures up). I found this on the ground during some construction.
I also like the way this looks. (Up to the troughs, that is.) I cleared a space just south of the pinyon about the size of the kitchen table here (on this side of the Yucca rupicola and the peccary’s hindquarters…the brown thing in the sun just to the left of the wrapped redbud), so I could have an empty space in which to plant some expensive bulbs that I don’t have yet.
Hopefully, within a year or so, I won’t have to hang my head in shame, should visitors come to the garden.
the miserable gardener 