Uh oh. After two years of carefully-cropped photos and blithe descriptions of my favorite rare lilies and annuals, some of the people who have been reading Gardening While Intoxicated and this blog will actually see my garden. The reality. Not many, it’s true, but three of them are my fellow ranters and there are maybe six-eight other bloggers and lurkers. Yikes. I’m not worthy! So, to help prepare them, I offer:
The five ugliest spots in my garden.
(It could have been 10 or even 20, but that would be too depressing.)
#5 The hellstrip
Now, for many, this would be #1, but these areas are supposed to be ugly, so I don’t feel too bad about it. In its defense, I would mention that there are three Norway maples and their accompanying root systems in this little spot. The city owns the trees, so I’m hesitant to take any down, plus trees are good and all that.
#4 The big ugly rosebush
Why can’t I pull this out? It does bloom all the time—you can probably see buds on it now—but the flowers last about 20 minutes and the tall canes are blocking some truly attractive clematis, lilies, roses, and climbing petunia, mingling on the trellie behind it (or they were—what happened?).
#3 The unproductive rhodies
These were supposed to be better and hardier than the others. Well, they suck. I had six blooms in early summer. Major—and costly—replacement issues here, though. The other problem is that they, like much of the garden, have to assert themselves against the omnipresent red brick backdrop (the material of the two Victorians that pertain here).
#2 I don’t even know what to call this There is a big birdseye maple (well-behaved for its species), a couple lilies, Canadian anemone, porcelain vine, and—whatever. The faded pink flamingo (which my husband will not have removed) is not helping.
#1 Weeds galore
Don’t mistake, I have weeds throughout my garden, but most are well-hidden or mitigated by their surroundings. Here, however, in a spot behind the garage that never gets watered, weeded, or (one hopes) looked at, weeds take center stage. A couple lilies and a rose bush have survived over the years.
Again, this is a selective list. And I know that these images aren’t really all that hideous, but nor are they orderly flower beds. I am sure that when Susan, Michele, and Amy visit, they can expand on this. Not to my face, probably. Though—Susan is a coach. Maybe there’s some kind of tough love policy. The drinks will need to flow.