I really do. This yard of mine is misbehaving. The grass is okay, considering we had almost no snow this past winter, and it hasn’t really rained, um, at all. But my lilacs? Never bloomed. Boo, lilacs. Badly done. And my apple tree? Not a single blossom. Not one. And my strawberries? Nothing. (Actually that’s not quite true. I saw a demon magpie eating a strawberry about two or three weeks ago. It was a lonely strawberry, and I decided not to begrudge the demon magpie, but HEY, STRAWBERRIES — where are you?) Raspberries? Nary a blossom. (I think that’s the first time I’ve used that phrase in my life. It was fun. I shall do it again someday. Soon.)
And then there’s the garden. I didn’t try again. I thought I might, this year. Last year I did nothing, as you may recall. The year before that I couldn’t even produce a single zucchini. I know. Give me a break. We are enjoying the fact of volunteer chives. That’s the only non-grass/non-weed (debatable) thing in the whole garden box. I didn’t try partly because I am lazy (90%) and partly because I don’t need to fail at one more thing these days (10%).
If you know what is the matter with my hands-off produce and flowers business, tell me. Is this related to bee colony collapse? (Remember that I subbed a whole lot of science at the end of May? I know a thing. Or two.) Is it personal? Do my plants hate me? Is it some kind of solidarity thing — plants vs. Becca, because of the huge vat of RoundUp I’ve been using on those lumps that should be flowerbeds?
*Sigh*
I can live without this stuff, but I’m the most sorry about the lilacs.