What a pleasure to finally complete the asparagus beds, along with setting pavers and stones into the area under our outdoor water spigot! With so much always “in process” in the garden, little completions are quite satisfying. That is also true for me in other areas. Yesterday, I finally figured out our financial budget for retirement, and that feels so grounding as well, like I am really retired now.
I blogged about planting the crowns last April, near the walls behind the house and next to the garage. [Here is a picture of the “before” trench behind the house.] The instructions were to let the asparagus plants grow in the trench, and add compost and soil bit by bit as they got taller, keeping at least 2 inches above ground. This was complicated by the fact that some of the plants bolted up in a flash, while others were tiny babies for such a long time–even still.
But last week, with more compost and soil, I finally brought the beds up to level, and then finished them off with a layer of wood chips. In the bed near the garage, I actually created two little pockets with cut out pots for the ones that were still too small, so I could fill the soil around them up to level. They would have been buried! Hopefully, they’ll get enough sun and water to keep growing and come back next year with a flourish.
I also moved our lemon balm plant from near the cherry tree over to the small area just left of the water spigot. It looks and smells so cheerful there, and will be nicely contained for a plant that I learned has a spreading habit.
We are in the season in which life is bursting out all over, even as we can start to feel the shift toward the autumn. Days are shortening, and everything seems to be growing as much as it can. It is amazing to think that all these green plants die back in winter, seal themselves in their roots, and hide as if they didn’t exist at all, only to re-emerge in spring. So now they are making the most of sun and heat and rain, turning sunlight into sugar for all life in the neighborhood. The asparagus will die back too, in the winter, but come to life again in the spring–and we’ll be able to share in their bounty from that season forward. I love perennials!