Friday, Jun. 16, 2006
Dear Diary:

Ya win some, ya lose some.

So the hill which was Hostapalooza has filled out and, uh, I don't like it.

Oh crap.

Looking upwards toward house.

Parts of it work--I like it that the simple, dark green hosta is much bigger than the others. I wanted to create a textured effect as well as a colour effect, and texture I got.

BUT (me and my big but) I really missed the boat colour-wise. I really hate that the other two hostas I used just basically blend together and dissolve into the plant equivalent of beige.

I despise beige.

The other bed in the foreground of this picture I opened after Hostapalooza ended. I'm much happier with it because it has a lot more texture and colour variation.

ANOTHER bed? But why? Oh, I know, you might think that Hostapalooza should be enough hosta planting for one woman, but you would be so very, very wrong. As I walked the property I could see that there were more hosta that I could divide out from my other beds. How could I just leave them huddling when they could be free?

Yes, it was a simple case of hosta civil rights.

Besides, I think I speak for us all when I say that there can NEVER be too many hosta in the world.

Which leads us to this:

Because I could.

This is the other side of that clump of yellow daylilies you see in the middle of the first picture. This time, you're looking down at it from my home. (The bed in the foreground of the first picture is behind the rock at the bottom of the hill in this picture. Have I confused you? If I have, then my mission here is completed.)

This was also opened post Hostapalooza because I realized that the only way to fix what I don't like about Hostapalooza is to get more blue and yellow hosta into the Hostapalooza. So shovel in hand, I dug up a bed that's about 60 feet long and varies from 20 feet to no less than six feet and, um, moved more rock than any woman should ever move. Then I planted 500 or so hosta to get them a-breedin'.

(The colours on these hosta will deepen in a few weeks--some of them will turn a lovely bright yellow with a rich Kelly green edge--and I'll take another picture for you then.)

Altogether now: There can NEVER be too many hosta in the world.

So, uh, then the hill below our home looked unbalanced because there was this lovely snaking hosta bed heading down the left side and nothing on the right. And then there was the matter of the empty nursery bed which had held all the plant stock from hostapalooza ...

So I created a bed on the right because asymmetry is WRONG and I filled the hosta nursery because

There can NEVER be too many hosta in the world.

But I can quit any time I want to. Really. I can.

I've moved the little Marn-ra hostalettes into a flowerbox where they are flourishing alarmingly. The little hostas which were sized between a quarter and a dime last spring are now sporting leaves that are at least two inches across. When they are tiny like this they are stupidly cute, but if they attain anything close to their parents' size, I will need to open about 400 square feet of hosta bed just for them.

But I can quit any time I want to. Really. I can.

I had a small wad o' birthday cash burning a hole in my pocket that I decided to spend on some frou frou hosta. Yes, Virginia, there are frou frou hosta. There are legions of people just like me devoted to what are basically clumps of leaves. Hosta breeders are always trying to produce slightly different clumps of leaves in their unending quest to prove that yes, there is still a sucker born every minute and yes, said suckers will spend their hard earned money on slightly different clumps of leaves.

Thus, last weekend the spousal unit and I drove to a nursery about an hour and a half from where I live and I spent ages dithering over what slightly different clumps of leaves I would buy.

I treated myself to a Tattoo, a Wolverine, a Shade Fanfare, a Dream Weaver, a Pineapple Upside Down Cake, an Elvis Lives and a Night Before Christmas hosta. If you're curious, you can go to Google images and Google the plant name to pull up a picture of any of them.

The spousal unit lingered by a scruffy little bluish hosta. "It's called T-Rex," he said. "Let's get one of those." I demurred, because I'd never heard of the plant. A few days ago out of curiosity I made the mistake of Googling an image of it while he was around.

"WHOA," was all he could say. The sight of this big, ugly assed Jurassic looking thing set off all his bells and whistles. This weekend he is going to the nursery to buy one.

Oh dear.

Prior to the advent of T-Rex, I can honestly say I haven't seen a hosta I didn't like. Oh, sure, some of them appeal to me a lot more than others, but I've never found any of them repellent.

Prior to T-Rex.

Every time I see a picture of this hosta the words, "Feed me, Seymour" flash across my thoughts. Do I want a creature in my garden that makes me think of a man-eating plant and a demented dentist?

In a word, no.

Those of you amongst my three loyal readers who are of the praying persuasion, I ask you, no scratch that, I beg you to puh-LEESE take a moment to pray on my behalf that the nursery somehow, magically, sells out of their stock of T-Rex hostas.

Because, honestly, I do not want to be thinking the words, "Feed me Seymour" every time I walk out the door.


Mileage on the Marnometer: 387.25 miles. 10 per cent rubber duck10 per cent rubber duck
Oh, man, but I am having a hard time building back stamina. Ouch.

Goal for 2006: 1,250 miles - 2000 kilometers

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