Showing posts with label daffodils. Show all posts
Showing posts with label daffodils. Show all posts

Wednesday, June 03, 2026

a dirt garden

June 03, 2026

 


A child sweeps a dirt garden in South Africa. A college student plants flowers that disappear beneath a deck. A woman in Indianapolis moves mulch, ties daffodils, plants sunflowers, and wonders why she needs to remember everything. Perhaps memory is not a box where life is stored after it happens. Perhaps it is a garden itself: some things seeded, some things buried, some things returning years later with a name I did not know they had.

At Holmesdale Road, I liked to make perfume out of my mum’s roses. At 122 Ouklip Street, I would wonder at the bottlebrush plants, and I would sweep my imaginary dirt garden. It was just all dirt and no flowers due to South African drought. At Oakhall Park, I was in charge of gardening, and I nurtured the violets and tied down the daffodils.

In college, I planted a bunch of flowers at 206 South Third Street that then had a deck built over them. I loved the daylilies on Haverford Avenue, and I started planting my garden in 2000! Now it is a beast.

I spent two hours gardening yesterday. I weeded, planted sunflowers, planted other seeds, tied back daffodils, applied fertilizer, moved mulch, and mowed the lawn. Today, I am weeding Dr. Cho’s with Peanut. Laura is supposed to call around 5:45.

I am worried about planting the seed bombs. I am worried that I will do it wrong, and I am worried that I will plant them in the wrong place. At the moment, I am thinking along the side of the house, in the garden on the south side, along the neighbor’s driveway.

On Sunday, Jennifer and I went to a plant festival at the park. It was kind of annoying because we had to pay $9 to get in. Last year it was free. Oh well. They had some great plants, but I have more. Evil laugh. I could make a lot of money if I sold my plants, which I am not going to do. I wonder if my flowers will be taken into consideration when valuing the house in the future. The new generation is coming up, and they like and value plants.


Saturday, September 13, 2025

Each sprout, bloom, and fallen leaf reminds me to notice, to nurture, and to find beauty in patience.

September 13, 2025




I woke up with allergies in the night and again this morning. I should probably take a Benadryl, even though it makes me feel like a zombie—but I need my energy for the garden this weekend. The grass in the front and back yards is begging to be mowed, and there are plants that need attention. Maybe I’ll even find time to work on my paintings.

The squirrels are loud this morning, chattering and rustling through the trees. I hope they don’t leave a surprise on me again! The birds are noisy too, their songs mixing with the rustle of leaves and the soft hum of the wind. I love how slowing down makes me notice these details. I used to walk in Broad Ripple, moving quickly past everything, but for the last couple of years I’ve stayed in the park with Chewy. I see the trees’ bark textures, the way the light hits each branch, and even notice familiar faces. The park feels alive and intimate now, not just a path I pass through.

Gardening feels different this year, too. The recent limb trimming has opened the backyard, letting sunlight spill into areas that were once shaded. The patch by the gate now basks in morning sun, and I think I might finally grow something there. The creeping Charlie is still making its rounds, but I feel like I’m gaining the upper hand. I remember battling clover years ago—now it’s gone. Gardens come in waves; patience is key.

I picked up some baby onions at Walmart and plan to plant more whenever I move other plants around. I’m imagining a spring bulb bed: Dutch iris with deep violet petals, day lilies opening in soft gold, gladiolus in striking pinks and reds. Perhaps I’ll order some for myself and some for Dr. Cho. Later in the season, daffodils will trumpet cheerful yellow among the green, alliums will rise like little fireworks, and iris will add elegant purples and blues.

I can almost see the ultimate bulb garden: daffodils, alliums, Dutch iris, iris, gladiolus, and day lilies all blooming together in waves of color and texture. It’s ambitious, but I think I can make it happen. Gardening isn’t just work—it’s a way to watch life unfold slowly. Each sprout, bloom, and fallen leaf reminds me to notice, to nurture, and to find beauty in patience.

Thursday, July 24, 2025

Relocating Spring Bulbs

July 24, 2025

 As I garden I unearth bulbs.  These bulbs I am collecting and am going to plant nedt to the back yard staircase.



Directions for Planting Spring-Blooming Bulbs in Indianapolis

  1. Timing: Plant bulbs in the fall, between late September and mid-October.

  2. Frost Awareness: Ensure bulbs are planted at least 6-8 weeks before the first hard frost.

  3. Root Development: This timing helps bulbs develop roots before the ground freezes.

  4. Chilling Requirement: Most bulbs need 12-16 weeks of cold temperatures (below 40°F) to bloom in spring.

  5. Soil Conditions: Avoid planting in soggy soil to prevent bulb rot.

  6. Soil Temperature: Plant when soil temperatures are below 60°F.

  7. Final Timing: Try to plant before the ground freezes solid.

  8. Mulch: After planting, add a layer of mulch to regulate soil temperature and prevent bulbs from being pushed out by freeze-thaw cycles.

Tuesday, May 27, 2025

community of family and friends

May 27, 2025




I finished planting all of the Canna, and I tied down some daffodils. Today, I need to continue on my mission to plant seeds—seeds in the ground and seeds in a pot. I am excited to see some progress. I also moved around some lilies. After I saw how awesome everything looked at Dr. Cho's after I reorganized, I wanted to do the same at my house.