2017 is the tenth year of the Slice of Life Story Challenge hosted by Two Writing Teachers, The goal is to write and post a "slice of life" story every day during the month of March. My seventh graders are also participating in a slimmed down version of the challenge, writing 10 slices during the month.
Last year was our first growing season in our new house. We visited the house in August and closed in September, so we had no real idea what might be lurking under the ground come spring time.
The previous owners ran a gardening and lawn supply company, but they appeared to follow the gardner's version of "Doctors make the worst patients." I don't know if there really wasn't anything at all growing when they still lived in the house too or if they dug up a bunch of things before putting the house on the market. But we came up pretty empty in the curb-appeal department.
The berm in the front of the house sprouted a few things: daylilies and scattered wood lilies, along with a single, fat Stella D'oro daylily. One side of the house was entirely devoid of plants, the other a row of identical hostas.
There was a circular berm near the driveway that sprouted randomness: a whole field of Virginia bluebells (maybe) that blossomed and died away before anything else had grown. An odd, tall plant with big droopy leaves, and bud-like things that never bloomed all summer. A scattering of allium that lasted only a week.
And the backyard? Oh, the backyard. One empty deck-side planter, another gigantic berm in the back corner, also empty. Two hydrangeas and a bleeding heart (which we had to transplant to another spot while we removed the gigantic poison oak vine that had twisted five feet up the fence). Clearing fallen leaves off another empty planting area I discovered three inches of a rose, thorns and all, sticking up.
But it was only when we decided to turn over the soil and install two raised garden beds in the empty back berm that we discovered the true horrors that lay within. Only a few inches down, and we hit landscaping canvas. And rubber. Miles and miles of both. Layers and layers of both. Layers within layers. Layers several inches under other layers.
We eventually found soil - and tree roots, in addition to the assorted trash that was also included in the fill (empty bags from peat moss, broken plastic gardening posts, a coat hanger ...). The few things we planted there flourished, as did the weeds once the barriers came up.
This year we are hoping for a little less chaos, a little less disappointment, and a little more growth and color and life.
Here's to hoping!
(Click here to read my previous Slice of Life Challenge posts.)
Slice of Life: Adventures in Gardening
Last year was our first growing season in our new house. We visited the house in August and closed in September, so we had no real idea what might be lurking under the ground come spring time.
The previous owners ran a gardening and lawn supply company, but they appeared to follow the gardner's version of "Doctors make the worst patients." I don't know if there really wasn't anything at all growing when they still lived in the house too or if they dug up a bunch of things before putting the house on the market. But we came up pretty empty in the curb-appeal department.
The berm in the front of the house sprouted a few things: daylilies and scattered wood lilies, along with a single, fat Stella D'oro daylily. One side of the house was entirely devoid of plants, the other a row of identical hostas.
There was a circular berm near the driveway that sprouted randomness: a whole field of Virginia bluebells (maybe) that blossomed and died away before anything else had grown. An odd, tall plant with big droopy leaves, and bud-like things that never bloomed all summer. A scattering of allium that lasted only a week.
And the backyard? Oh, the backyard. One empty deck-side planter, another gigantic berm in the back corner, also empty. Two hydrangeas and a bleeding heart (which we had to transplant to another spot while we removed the gigantic poison oak vine that had twisted five feet up the fence). Clearing fallen leaves off another empty planting area I discovered three inches of a rose, thorns and all, sticking up.
But it was only when we decided to turn over the soil and install two raised garden beds in the empty back berm that we discovered the true horrors that lay within. Only a few inches down, and we hit landscaping canvas. And rubber. Miles and miles of both. Layers and layers of both. Layers within layers. Layers several inches under other layers.
(This doesn't even do the piles justice.)
We eventually found soil - and tree roots, in addition to the assorted trash that was also included in the fill (empty bags from peat moss, broken plastic gardening posts, a coat hanger ...). The few things we planted there flourished, as did the weeds once the barriers came up.
This year we are hoping for a little less chaos, a little less disappointment, and a little more growth and color and life.
Here's to hoping!
(Click here to read my previous Slice of Life Challenge posts.)
Oh my! What discoveries you've made -- both horticultural and otherwise. When we moved into our new house, we found a large farm rake buried about 2 feet under the soil. My husband found it when he was using a ditch witch to dig a ditch to run electricity. It broke the ditch witch (a rental) and we were NOT pleased that the farmer decided to dispose of his junk by burying it. Ugh!!
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