Monday, May 7, 2018
But when I tried to dig them up, I realized just how deeply embedded they were. Some of the roots I uncovered were the thickness of my fingers, and I knew that if I managed to excavate them, there was a very good chance they wouldn't make it.
I reached out to the woman who bought my house, through her realtor, and asked if she liked blueberries. She did, and her kids even more so.
So that was okay, at least they would be appreciated and I wouldn't walk past the house and see them sitting at the curb on trash day. If she'd said no, I'd have risked taking them out.
On Sunday, we combined a visit to Mario's family with a visit to a related blueberry farm in Hammonton, NJ, where we used our combined birthday money to buy three fully-mature bushes. These will bear heavily this year, but since they were grown for transplanting, they didn't have the ginormous root issues of our old bushes.
On the other side of the garden, along our garage, I peeled off another strip of sod and put in four tomato plants and two peppers, and a row of string bean seeds that can climb up the garage trellis.
BONUS PIC: my new tchotchke garden, so-christened by my neighbor Grace. I pulled out a bit of the ivy that had been there, discovered a buried outdoor faucet, and then just kept pulling. The large space by the pole is intended for a Gertrude Jekyll rose, whenever David Austin gets it together to deliver it, and though they are barely visible in the photo, there are 4 lavender plants, a rosemary, and the dried-out tulips and hyacinths transplanted from the back yard.
The tchotchke portion: a large pale blue Chinese fish (sitting on the stump of a long-gone azalea), 2 ceramic cats and a silver metal horse, all flea market finds that didn't make the cut to get in the house. It'll look better once the plants fill out.