Could be I traveled forward in time suddenly and without warning…
I wrote a story once, about a woman who created a time machine in her kitchen through the unplanned synchronization of a dishwasher, a waffle iron, a roller skate and a hot flash…
Of course it is scientifically impossible for that to have happened in this case because I don’t have a roller skate.
Still, somehow I got to May really fast.
Here (in Western Oregon) we’ve had a semi-balmy (in so many ways) spring. Garlic, lettuce, pac choi, onions, rhubarb and peas stand brave in the vegetable garden.
Arrow to tomato plants, standing less brave. It’s still kind of cold at night.
Well this blog pretends to delphiniums and now I transition to my extreme excitement following some basal cuttings made from the not-yet–quite-blooming native Oregon delphinium (D. trolliifolium, aka Columbian larkspur). Here’s one in flower last summer:
“What are basal cuttings?” you might wonder or pretend to wonder.
Basal cuttings are when you give up with seeds and stem cuttings and kind of go for the throat, or rather the feet, of the plant in early spring. (Applicable to campanula and lupin as well.)
I learned this from my close personal friend Mr. Google and he learned it from a Gardeners’ World BBC video featuring an English gardener named Carol Klein. I liked Carol Klein and how she simply whacked a shoot from the base of the plant, close to the ground, and stuck it in a pot to root.
Then too the viewer (I) could see that her cuttings kind of immediately wilted and drooped in the pot but Ms. Klein just forged on confidently about how one must repot when the roots start poking out the bottom. So when my cuttings wilted and drooped I knew they would be fine and soon rooted because Carol said so, and she had that really cute old house behind her in the video and also she looked like she was just having the best time out there in the cold early garden.
In other news, I was recently inspired to prune a bit on my various boxwood plants, but when I bravely climbed a ladder to access the upper region of the biggest one I was yelled at by a furious robin who had, without permission, built a nest and produced a family deep inside the bush. So that particular bush is maybe 66% clipped until later or next year or never and if you think I’m including a photograph well no.
Then I continued shaping the smaller hedges as sort of round or blocky things instead of chickens or pyramids, so sad, and I just hope this dysfunction will not affect my next incarnation so that I have to endure lots of bad haircuts or possibly an inept surgeon.