Gladdening

It is a trick, or should I call it a technique, that I’m learning. Grace called it brightening, but I know it as gladdening. Gladdening the heart. That’s the phrase that comes to my mind. (Now I might also use brightening.)

Plants, especially flowers, are always gladdening.

Here’s the cranesbill geranium and the sedum I transplanted earlier this spring. They are now in a prominent spot where I can see them from inside the house. I cut back the thuggish tansy (brown stalks in background) to give the cranesbill more space. That tansy is going to have to be moved somewhere where it can have free rein. It’s great for dyeing and printing, so I don’t want to eliminate it but its growth is very aggressive.

I chose this cool overcast morning to clean out the hoophouse beds, a big chore. The beds in there have been ignored since we stopped harvesting, April or maybe May? All overgrown now. I got half of it done, then I stopped. Pacing myself. Maybe more tomorrow.

I saved some daisies for gladdening and some yarrow for the dyepot.

Valerian, like rhodora, is another plant that had a mythical aspect, never thought I’d make its acquaintance. Now I’m coming to know it. It grows tall on a skinny stalk. Might be mistaken for yarrow or Queen Anne’s Lace at first, but those tall skinny stalks, sparse fringey leaves, and white/pink flower clusters become unmistakable. I was shocked to find one stalk growing along the edge of my driveway last year. How did it get there? This year there are a few. I went to a nearby field where I could get a photo of a few of them in a better location than a driveway.

And a photo of lavender blooming in my rock garden, such a great plant.

During trust time yesterday, I invited the trees I can see outside my window to join the circle. A cedar, a maple, a pine. They are steadfast and strong, standing in the sunshine and moving in the breeze.