Earlier in the year, we bought a pack of mixed seeds that we think will do well in the driveway bed because it’s so sandy and the seeds are for xeriscaping. It’s supposed to go along the lines of the cottage garden I want to have. In the mix are phlox, which I don’t care for because they are so darn prickly. I Googled what phlox seeds should look like and took most of them out of the big messy mix. While doing that I started sorting seeds so that I can have some nice clumps of similar flowers. I figure I could plant some groups of similar seeds in “pockets” of the bed and then scatter the rest willy-nilly. Of course, Ralph saw me doing this and couldn’t stop laughing. I can’t help that I’m addicted to gardening and the Type A part of me that makes for a sometimes anal-retentive graphic designer, wants some order in the chaos. I thought it was a pretty good compromise of random and controlled but Ralph just kept laughing.
I started a bunch more seeds for the plant swap, scattered a few hellebore seeds that I hope were ripe, covered the gargoyles for the impending frost we’re supposed to have starting tomorrow and admired the first Queen of the Night tulip that bloomed. Oh, and I threw some Kentucky Wonder Beans in with the peas. I don’t know why I never bothered planting beans before, when we eat them regularly, but this time I did. Mainly because I’m pretty sure I’ve planted too much of everything I already have seeds for.
By the end of the week, I will plant cleome seeds as well as the two packets of mixed seeds (after I plant the groups of seeds I’ve sorted). Why is gardening so addictive? Is it because you “create” a plant from start to finish? That must be it. I like making pretty things and gardening helps feed that desire in me.