Yesterday morning this mammoth sunflower in the middle of the front raised bed was peeking through the petals neatly folded over its face. Today I went out and there it was, fully open and grinning at the sky.
I love these guys.
This raised bed has been a busy place these past few days. In addition to the sunflower holding center stage, the tomatoes to the right of it are flourishing and loaded with ripening fruit. The zinnias are blooming and the tithonia is getting taller.
And to the left, in the bare area where I dug up the potato crop this spring, I now have four rows of rather bewildered looking strawberry plants. I'd planned on putting in more tithonia and sunflowers there (if I got around to it), but Dorothea called me yesterday afternoon and asked if I wanted some strawberry plants. I drove off down the hill to her house without even taking time to change out of my gardening pants -- wasn't worth it, seeing as I'd be coming home and planting strawberries. And that's exactly what I did -- all of them were in the ground by the time the sun was down. Bruce and I put up a canopy frame over the area and then I said goodnight to everybody and went inside.
This morning I cut lengths of green shade cloth and wired it to the frame. Not surprisingly, I had trouble with the measuring part and one panel is shorter than the other. Deja vu.
The whole structure of flapping mismatched shade cloth has traveled well beyond the realm of "rustic" and is solidly banjo-twanging tacky.
Pish -- who cares? What matters is that the strawberries were happy campers as they sheltered beneath the dappled shade and made it through their first day at Frogpond.