Back from a lovely long weekend in the summer Eden of northern New Hampshire . . .
. . . to find the garden in dire need of late summer attention. The old stalks of larkspur were pulled, seed was collected, and in a moment of insanely wishful thinking comparable only to a bride telling herself, "I'll make him change once we're married," as she walks down the aisle, anemones were planted in their stead. Yes, the groom will stop doing whatever annoying thing it is that he does, and semi-shade, moisture-loving "Honorine Jobert" anemones will flourish in a dry southern exposure. Sea holly (Eryngium amethystinum) didn't even last a year in this location. Heart over head here: I just love anemones. Call me delusional. Then pass the watering can and mulch.
And how does the rest of the garden look? Rather underwhelming, given the dearth of flowers. What would we do without Phlox panticula? In this bed, the white blossoms of "David" blend rather nicely with the powdery mildew dusting the adjacent peony foliage. Sigh. Maybe this falls under the "unrealistic expectations" marriage myth.
However, one glorious sight: the brilliant white shafts of blossoms sported by the hosta "Guacamole."
As I worked, I had a little bunny buddy hanging out with me. Sometimes a silent partner is the best.