"...She's really most sincerely dead."

"...And she's not only merely dead, she's really most sincerely dead.         
~Mayor of the Munchkin City

 I spend an inordinate amount of time in my front yard and garden this time of year. Hours. Usually with a cup of coffee (or glass of wine) in my left hand, leaving my right hand free to deadhead or pick an errant weed. I am not unaware...

of the thought bubble suspended over the heads of my neighbors and passers-by who wonder...

"Just how much time DOES she spend in her garden each day...and exactly what DOES she DO in all of that time?"  

Besides, of course, drink coffee and swill wine.

As any nutso gardener will tell you, there is no simple answer to that question, but...

this spring I am spending an unusually large amount of time assessing what is merely bruised, battered, and delayed (but still alive) after this past brutal winter...

and what is "really most sincerely dead"...not just playing opossum. I am especially fretting over my stand of purple lorapetalum (this variety hardy to 10 degrees...read more about it here)... the bare, twiggy shrubs seen in the pictures above. And really messing with my spring tableau, I might add.

Compare its lackluster budding out this year...with the beautiful fluffy purple mound of last year in the image above. At least, at this point on the calendar,

(another 2013 pic)
tiny buds and gasps of purple ARE appearing, and I am hoping they can be pruned and cosseted back to their prior beauty...creating a display befitting

even the mayor of Munchkinland.


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