No more Ms. Nice Woman.
Time to dig up the invasive early spring plant that I thought for years was the Oregon native Marsh Marigold. (Live and learn, thanks to my brilliant blog readers–see the discussion at the end of this post.) The celandine has been spreading voraciously, and setting up colonies in very distant beds, but the coffee break is over for this rude plant.
Like chopping wood, it warms one to dig. Too warm. Jacket tossed. Boots caked with mud. Thank heaven I didn’t have to work alone–
I took out the Lesser Celandine plants and the maybe 4 inches of soil attached to their roots. We were pretty thorough, but I’m sure some of the little root bulbs escaped and will be back, this year or next.
This is when a terrier is just so essential.
Instead I have created a Lesser Celandine grave barrow. I will cover this hill and make certain it keeps to itself, even as I add future evil celandine sprouts to it. It will eventually become a pile of soil, but I won’t be spreading it on any garden beds. (I hope it isn’t haunted.)
Max required an immediate bath.
In related news, the havoc in the greenhouse (see previous post) was indeed perpetrated by mice. After chewing on the clematis cuttings, the next night they thoroughly dug up a whole flat of newly seeded pots–eating the seeds. I have since convinced the mice to leave (do not ask) and seeds have arrived in the mail, so today I plant a bunch of new stuff in the greenhouse. Yippee!
P.S. If this all seemed too destructive please go back to my therapy post, thoughtfully provided for readers’ mental and emotional renewal.
P.P.S. Kininvie is back so now he can finish the seduction scene I very generously began for him at the Uncanny Death romance novel–I mean murder mystery.