Killing, Part 3: This Time, It's Unintentional

What is that quote from A Christmas Story? "Life is like that. Sometimes, at the height of our revelries, when our joy is at its zenith, when all is most right with the world, the most unthinkable disasters decend upon us."

So while my previous post about my successful garden transformation--in one year!--was truthful, I cannot hide the other, uglier truth.  Which is that a lot of those beautiful plants fell victim to my inexperience.



I'M SORRY!


Undeterred, however, I replaced the dearly departed with new little friends and hoped for the best. Wonder of wonders: the more I planted, the better my survival rate became. And so by my final spring in my townhouse (2006), things looked like this--and all these guys were survivors.




Saaaay...




Garden assistant posing behind the crape myrtle.






Wildlife!




This also marks the beginning of my rock fetish.




How about that little brick border?




Dad's peonies!


In fact, I became so successful that I ran out of room and was forced to branch out into the median to fuel my new gardening obession.



Fancy!

 The best thing? My neighbor gave me the irises, my parents' neighbor gave me the day lilies, my friend Vera gave me sedum acre from her yard, the grape hyacinths were volunteers, my dad gave me black-eyed Susans, and I recycled all the bricks from my yard (a bunch of them were actually buried in the yard).