Coming and Going
It was another nice day in the yard. Except this time, I was digging. Thistles. The big, aggressive kind. The one’s whose leaves bite at the faintest touch. I dig them up with a turning fork and shovel. I carry them by their tap root, wearing my thick leather grilling gloves that cover my forearms. Their blooms are lovely, but they’ll cover bare ground in a season, and make it impenetrable to man and beast.
It's my one bow this season to my usual weeding activity. I’m still leery of getting down on my knees and dirtying my hands. But the thistles grow fast, and you can’t wait to weed them. When I see them, I dig. It was the same approach I took with the khaki weed. Now it’s gone except for random appearances. It was a five year battle. There’s still some thistles outside the fence, but that may have to wait until next year.
But as one purple flower goes another comes, and the irises are blooming. I’ve been moving the bulbs, gradually, into a new, more spacious location beneath the big trees. They’re doing well. But there are more to move. I always planned on doing a deep dive into our bulbs and how to manage them. But until now I’ve just let them be. But I think they would benefit, as does anything, from a little love. So, I think perhaps this year, the Guadalupian year, the year of new beginnings, I will embark on that journey of becoming a bulb man. Seems a pleasant pastime.