Jane Kenyon wrote that if she weren’t a poet she’s be a gardener. She said they do the same thing, a poet moves words around and a gardener moves flowers around.
This evening, while Jon was making a pizza for dinner I dug up the huge flower with the pink feathery flowers (I don’t know what it’s called) and moved it to the wildflower garden on the edge of the yard.
It had grown taller than me, took up the whole front of the garden, blocking out everything behind it. I waited till the pink feathery flowers bloomed, cut them off and put them in a vase in the house.
I was going to leave the plant as it was till the blooms died, but I couldn’t wait.
I dug up some purple and yellow Iris’s (my favorites that were here when we moved in) that are growing in and around the roots of the lilac bush at the edge of the porch and planted them in its place. But they weren’t enough to fill the space and I wanted something that would continue to bloom on the edge of the garden.
So I moved a yellow lily that flowers all season long (I don’t know its name either), another lily from the garden in front of the house ( I have no idea what color or kind) and emptied the Johnny Jump-ups that were dying in a pot on the porch along the front edge of the garden, hoping they’ll thrive.
The dahlia, sedums and poppy that were hidden under the big pink feathery flower are now visible, ready to soak in the sunlight and spread their leaves into the empty space around them.
