It’s been a long day of transplanting monarda I brought from my old community garden plot, picking up small stray branches, and replanting three dozen day lilies that were uprooted when the Bobcat, driven by George, our landscaping guy, pulled up one of three black locust trees, these strange undesirables that send out roots and runners from the front of the property to the house. I’ve heard that black locust roots can penetrate a home’s foundation to do their magic, or their damage. Three of these towering invasives provided almost no shade but dropped ugly pods into the gardens and shot out roots—and seedlings—in all directions. And those roots have the oddest, most unpleasant odor. In between stints digging, removing sand, adding compost to the sandy holes and planting the bee balm and the uprooted lilies, I returned to the cottage and read first drafts of my students’ research essays.
It was more satisfying to transplant the monarda and the daylilies.
After a long drive home, and a tasty skillet meal of leftover bowtie pasta, mushrooms, a handful of frozen peas we almost forgot about, and some red pepper, it’s time for two ibuprofen and a hot shower. The final episode of The Americans is on at 10.
George was still handily picking up logs and brush with the Bobcat, when my Prius and I pulled out of the rocky driveway and headed towards Boston. The garden is starting to come alive, and without the black locusts.
The winter now seems very long ago, and I say, on with the spring.