Behind the Green Door

Hahhahahaa! Isn't that the name of a 1970's porn movie? (*1) Well, behind this green door there is our living room and- nothing to see here! Anyway, the picture is simply to show our attempt at a "classic" "formal" container planting by our front door as we're clearly such classic, formal individuals!
So as a complete break from the COVID 19 crisis and the newly minted crisis of The Orange Menace threatening to call in the military to squelch protesters after a million too many deaths of Black Americans at the hands of racists, I've been gardening! And making ART! Two entirely wholesome activities that help keep me from having panic attacks...(*2). I'm sure I have company in alternately despairing over the violence and hatred in this country and trying to avoid the news altogether.
So here are some recent wholesome activity updates:

Here's a view of the newly weeded and resurrected Blue Garden. This are was so full of escaped run-amok Blue Lyme Grass (elymus arenarius to those with a penchant for Latin) which does tend towards being an aggressive- but attractive!- grass. I dug up about three hundred cubic miles of the stuff and re-planted it in two metal surrounds. Hopefully, I can enjoy its powdery blueness while controlling its zeal to conquer. I also planted two more sky blue truly beautiful Delphinium; a close up please!

And that color is accurate. I am holding off planting the deep purple Delphinium here as we're still enjoying its company on the terrace in a pot. The Blue Garden is an endlessly entertaining exercise in pigment restraint; so few flowers are really blue. Most tend towards a smudgy off-lavendar kind of shade. As most of you will notice that I tend to be pretty rampant in my color interactions in other parts of the garden. In general, I like a lot of color.
But what else did I rip out beside Blue Lyme Grass? This bed was (and parts still are!) totally overrun with poison ivy. The bane of my gardening existence! Here's a lovely shot of what I'm up against:

Weaving its evil way through everything. I carefully donned dirty clothes, latex gloves and tall boots and commenced to rip it out. Then I stuffed it all in a trash bag and left it to rot. I carefully peeled all my clothes off, jettisoned them to the washing machine and scrubbed my hands, wrist and face (as I knew I touched it) with Dawn dish soap. It was interesting because I think the poison ivy juices that contacted my face wanted to erupt, but couldn't so my face felt "funny" for a day and then nothing happened. But look at knee where I had a tear in my pants:

I got a minor case there! I wish I had thought to wash my knee. But I'll live and I did remove most of that noxious weed. Not bad for a day's digging.





(*1) Yup! A "classic" of the kind (apparently).
(*2) And no, I am not denying the awfulness of what is occurring. You know me: I have three pieces going in my studio- directly in response to The Orange Menace and his evil ways! The newest one is "Human Scum", inspired by his description of Never Trumper Republicans. Really?