This morning while darting back inside after fetching the poor excuse of a newspaper, I glanced over at my flowerbeds. Mind you I have two large flowerbeds that flank my front porch and run the entire length of the front of my home . I can't quite figure these flowerbeds out, they seem to be exact opposites all within about ten feet of each other.
To the left is the flowerbed, we'll call exhibit A. It is home to a smattering of weathered ugly as hell reddish mulch. Over the years, I've invested in more expensive perennials with the dreams of lush blooms gracing me every summer, only to have maybe one plant of about thirty return. I've taken all the appropriate steps to ensure perennial success including, but not limited to soil enhancers, organic fertilizers, buying native Colorado species, more water, less water, love, attention, and singing. But to no avail, the plants don't come back. I am starting to get agitated just thinking about that damn flowerbed right now. At one point, I almost convinced my dad to build a large deck over it, so I could just erase the hard work and money down the drain from my memory.
Bizarrely enough to the right is the "other" flowerbed or exhibit B. It's a completely different beast. Exhibit B is home to a wonderful succession of floral blooms. It is full of beautiful spring and summer blooming bulbs. All of the blooms just magically appear year after year. As I glanced over today, I noticed some short green growth already appearing. A hint of spring. Before I know it, a couple crocus will pop up. Then a few hyacinths, daffodils, and some tulips. As they fade away, the irises will be growing tall and green into the warmer months. At the very end of the flowerbed is a transplanted lavender plant, which has mingled well and made friends with it's bulbous counterparts.
A carefree delight.