To distract myself from the madness that I fear to jinx, it’s time for the garden report!

Yesterday, I took out a big swath of plants–I hadn’t been sure if they were weeds or not, but they’re spread everywhere, and they don’t flower, which meets the Ursula Standard, and furthermore, they were home to a bunch of Japanese beetles. Blargh.

Now I need replacements–these were the tallest thing in the garden–so I’m going out later today to the garden center. I’m hoping for Carolina phlox, which they had before, but I’ll settle for yarrow happily enough. And maybe more brown-eyed susans. The coreopsis is not doing well, for some reason–too dry? too wet? who can tell?–but the brown-eyed susans are fabulous.

The glads are doing the typical glad thing–they’re blooming extravagantly, gloriously, and then falling over, so I’ve cut a few and brought them in. We have pink ruffly white, and vibrant red. They’re pretty spectacular, and they last a good long time in the vase.

The purple coneflower is going loony. It’s a kind of triple threat–there was the stuff I bought and the stuff that it turned out the previous owner had planted, and the stuff I liberated from the garden next door, resulting in a seriously echinacea heavy garden. Not that I’m complaining! I love that stuff.

There are also petunias. Why are there petunias? I did not plant petunias. And yet there they are, the pale purple with veiny purple centers, petunias. They’re an annual, but perhaps the seeds were dormant for quite a long time. I’m not complaining, I don’t mind them, it was just a surprise.

In the backyard, the hostas have long purple spires, the American beautyberry is flowering, and the Rose of Sharon hedge is rose-of-sharoning. The color has not grown on me, but I can’t complain. The ferns have exploded. It’s like a jungle. The jewelweed has survived nicely, the foxglove has not. Que sera, sera.

Everywhere, pollinators. I am delighted to see them. Although the hummingbird is still a rare visitor, the goldfinches are out every day, and enormous fat bumblebees, and thin, narrow-waisted wasps. It’s like a benediction to see them–“You’re doing things right. This is how it should be.” Even though I know pollinators like plenty of non-natives and are pretty indiscriminate, at least they’re there, and alive, and that’s something wonderful.

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