Poor PZ is still mowing his lawn. Around here Mr regularly sighs “I need to mow the lawn and then we do something else. I like that. I think we will make some hay later in summer in preparation of the degus. For now it’s a pretty wilderness.
Though we should not use that area for feed as there are many raspberries starting their career there right now.
If you allow it to grow, “lawn” turns out to be many grasses.
They grown their own seed, so no need to buy any next year. When we bought the house, this was “lawn”. But because a lawn is a fuckton of work, it had been overtaken by moss. It took us two years to get out most of that shit so other plants had a chance at growing.
In addition to the evening primroses and the daisy fleabane, other flowers bloom here as well, like Queen Anne’s Lace. Did you know they’re actually wild carrots?
Another hydrangea that was already in the garden, which I absolutely love: a snowball
These are very easy to care for. You just cut off the dry stalks and they come back with a vengeance next year. Another flower that doesn’t do much for insects, but you’re allowed to have some pretty where you’re the main benefactor. Also, cut off some stalks and you have a flower bouquet when you go for a visit. Yes, the old apple tree is loaded with fruit, let’s see if we get some come fall. They make amazing applesauce.
Crip Dyke, Right Reverend Feminist FuckToy of Death & Her Handmaiden says
I grew up at the bitter end of the suburbs. Like, my street was considered suburban (though neighboring houses had yet to be built when we moved in, it was planned as a residential street and only a couple years later those housing plots had been filled in), but over the back fence was miles of agricultural land, starting with a wheat field. There was a forest -- probably second growth, though I was too young for my memory to be worth respecting as a judgement on the point -- and right on the edge of the forest but outside the bounds of the wheat field there was some unkept grassland. It looked much like your pictures, with plenty of Queen Anne’s lace.
Which is all to say your pictures take me back to being a 5-year old wandering in the fields behind my house and wondering if the farmer would chop me up like Peter Rabbit if I cut through his wheat on the way home. In other words, good times.
Of all the flowers in my garden, I love bellflowers the most.