Lawns and roses
One of the useful things about where I work is that occasionally, I "bump into" people I've lost track of. Like the fellow who used to mow my lawn--he called on business and I--contrary to professional protocol--said hi and reminded him of who and where I am. He's coming over Saturday morning to mow. The kid I've had doing it for the last year or two is away at college, and I was starting to worry about what I'd do once the rainy season really kicked in.
Bugger--now I *really* have to do something about that rose trellis.
A few years ago, while I was still in domestic cohabitation with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, we replaced the drain-field connected to the septic tank, meaning a backhoe came in and tore up the whole backyard. Once the drain-field was installed and the mounds of earth were back in place, the whole area was an expanse of sandy, gritty Florida dirt. H.W.S.N.B.N. decided this was the perfect opportunity to defeat the sawgrass that usually dominated the landscape, and so, bright and early on the first Saturday morning following the installation, we were out in the backyard scattering grass seed. (And watering it every evening for weeks afterward.)
In the garage, I had an arched trellis made of bolted-together hollow pipe--bought very cheaply several years previously and helpfully assembled by friends I'd loaned it to for use in their wedding. At the east end of the house there's a level area of concrete that my dad put in to have somewhere to work on his project cars. (Front yard slopes steeply; not satisfactory for automotive endeavors.) There's a driveway from the level area to the street, but the concrete doesn't go all the way to the back fence; it stops a couple feet past the south wall of the house.
So--here was this slab of concrete meeting this sea of grey sand. To break it up, I brought out the trellis and we set it in the dirt at the end of the patio/terrace/level concrete slab, roughly midway between my house and the neighbor's fence. I had the thought that it would serve as a focal point/formal entry to the yard proper.
It was a big, dark green archway with *nothing* on either side of it. H.W.S.N.B.N. decided that there should be something growing there--and I couldn't argue with that--it looked absurd. We then went to Home Depot, looking for some climbing roses. Alas, they had very few climbers that Saturday, and the ones they did have looked rather picked over.
We then went to a big local nursery--they aren't part of a chain, they've just been around for decades and they're huge. They have a very. large. rose. garden. After wandering around and drooling (Well, *I* was--I'd never been there before, and I'm prone to spasms of horticulture.) for a while, he ended up getting me *two* Don Juan rose bushes, one for either side of the trellis.
If you aren't familiar with Don Juan roses, they're a *very* rich, dark red. I dubbed them Don Juan and Don Carlos. It turned out that Don Carlos really was a climber, and Don Juan was apparently a mislabeled shrub. They both yielded gorgeous dark red roses, though, but the trellis went over during hurricane season 2004. (When our area got smacked three times in about six weeks.) I've propped it up and it keeps falling over, and now I really have to figure out what I'm going to to with it.
The sawgrass killed the lawn. No surprise....
Bugger--now I *really* have to do something about that rose trellis.
A few years ago, while I was still in domestic cohabitation with He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named, we replaced the drain-field connected to the septic tank, meaning a backhoe came in and tore up the whole backyard. Once the drain-field was installed and the mounds of earth were back in place, the whole area was an expanse of sandy, gritty Florida dirt. H.W.S.N.B.N. decided this was the perfect opportunity to defeat the sawgrass that usually dominated the landscape, and so, bright and early on the first Saturday morning following the installation, we were out in the backyard scattering grass seed. (And watering it every evening for weeks afterward.)
In the garage, I had an arched trellis made of bolted-together hollow pipe--bought very cheaply several years previously and helpfully assembled by friends I'd loaned it to for use in their wedding. At the east end of the house there's a level area of concrete that my dad put in to have somewhere to work on his project cars. (Front yard slopes steeply; not satisfactory for automotive endeavors.) There's a driveway from the level area to the street, but the concrete doesn't go all the way to the back fence; it stops a couple feet past the south wall of the house.
So--here was this slab of concrete meeting this sea of grey sand. To break it up, I brought out the trellis and we set it in the dirt at the end of the patio/terrace/level concrete slab, roughly midway between my house and the neighbor's fence. I had the thought that it would serve as a focal point/formal entry to the yard proper.
It was a big, dark green archway with *nothing* on either side of it. H.W.S.N.B.N. decided that there should be something growing there--and I couldn't argue with that--it looked absurd. We then went to Home Depot, looking for some climbing roses. Alas, they had very few climbers that Saturday, and the ones they did have looked rather picked over.
We then went to a big local nursery--they aren't part of a chain, they've just been around for decades and they're huge. They have a very. large. rose. garden. After wandering around and drooling (Well, *I* was--I'd never been there before, and I'm prone to spasms of horticulture.) for a while, he ended up getting me *two* Don Juan rose bushes, one for either side of the trellis.
If you aren't familiar with Don Juan roses, they're a *very* rich, dark red. I dubbed them Don Juan and Don Carlos. It turned out that Don Carlos really was a climber, and Don Juan was apparently a mislabeled shrub. They both yielded gorgeous dark red roses, though, but the trellis went over during hurricane season 2004. (When our area got smacked three times in about six weeks.) I've propped it up and it keeps falling over, and now I really have to figure out what I'm going to to with it.
The sawgrass killed the lawn. No surprise....