Yardwork - thank goodness I love it.

We got some really gorgeous weather this weekend and I spent almost all of Saturday and much of Sunday in the yard. Lately we've gotten a little rain about every other day, with clear sunny skies in between. Perfect for growing my tomatoes! This Better Boy plant has eleven big tomatoes, one ripe enough to pick today. I've already harvested about a dozen sweet cherry tomatoes, most of which I ate before I got inside. The Early Girl now has lots of mid-sized green tomatoes and the German Queen has finally sprouted some blossoms. But year after year I have trouble with one variety that I always buy anyway, because I love them. It's sitting there stubbornly, not a single bloom to be seen. Oh, Mr. Stripey - why must you always disappoint me?

Our weather also produces ideal conditions for weeds. I filled bucket after bucket with weeds I pulled out of the flower beds, carting them up to the street. I also had it pointed to me that while I love the extravagantly natural look of over-grown shrubs, it does not make for a house that sells well. So I got out a ladder and loppers and went to work on a huge old hibiscus that is partially obscuring the front of my house. I'm not cutting it down completely, just making it look a little more manageable. I also cleared out another hibiscus that was essentially reclining on my lawn, just looking louche.  I love it. But I'm told it looks untidy. In addition, I took out about half the nandina, which draped over the basement windows and the air conditioner. My dream, though, is to design my next yard so that it has very little grass and is mostly big, joyfully lush gardens. By the end of the weekend I'd stacked an enormous number of limbs by the side of the road. But when I went to get a photo today, the efficient city had already carted them away. While I was outside working yesterday, I was listening to the neighbor kids playing with their cousins, who were visiting. Three on bikes appeared to be in the 5-7 range, and I heard one of the little girls refer to me as "that teenager." The neighbor boy leapt to me defense, "That's not a teenager -  that's Ms. C.  She's a GIRL!"  I couldn't argue with that logic, so I just smiled and waved.