I spent a good part of this afternoon digging up larkspur seedlings. It kills me to thin out seedlings. Every one of the little plants I uprooted could have grown into a big fat larkspur, if only it hadn’t self-seeded a quarter inch away from 1,500 other larkspur seedlings. Poor dears. And it’s not even worthwhile to transplant them, because just about every inch of my back garden is thick with larkspur seedlings–at least, the inches that aren’t covered with self-seeded calendulas.
I did find a few more poppies that have had the good graces to volunteer themselves again this year. I’m excited about that. And I think the first of the sweet peas is about to poke out of the ground. The mesclun mix I planted has sprouted; I realized it when I saw that half the seedlings growing thickly in the lettuce plot were dark red and half were green. Those would be baby romaines!
I bought a new digger at T.J. Maxx (I know, I know; it caught my eye) and also spent some time uprooting the odd dandelion from the lawn. I then got to work on the wild onions in the beds. I don’t really mind wild onions; they never amount to enough to be troublesome. I let one go all the way to flower a few years back, and it ended up looking like this. Speaking of which, my 80-year-old boss at work was saying the other day that when he was growing up, the last snow of the season was called “onion snow,” because when it fell, the only thing you could see growing above it were the tops of the wild onions.
It’s the most poetic I’ve ever heard my boss be!