I don't want to share the following photos without a little preparation.
They are a bit jarring to the sensibilities.
(Oh the drama.... I'll try to prepare myself.... NOT!)
I said a BIT, smarty pants.
Anyway, here's the preparation:
Definition of 'bleak'
1: exposed and barren and often windswept
a bleak landscape
bleak soils
3a : lacking in warmth, life, or kindliness : grim
the future looks bleak
c : severely simple or austere
So here's the story: The eastern section of my garden has become too shady for things to grow well because of an overhanging branch of a Walnut tree. That tree is also very old and prone to dropping limbs. Mr. P decided that he would move that section of fence to the west side of my garden. He's in the middle of the project.
I have laid down a really rag tag assortment of cardboard boxes and a big tarp to discourage the grass so it will theoretically easier to till the soil in the Spring.
Here's the section of the garden that will no longer be fenced....
Please note the nice soil. Ahem.
Now all is not lost, because I intend to do something with this area, the sunny half of it anyway. I'm doing research on serious, hard core deer resistant plants. [This is more difficult than it sounds.]
Here's the whole garden area in the colorless, dreary fog of January.
You could lose your will to live.....
Here's the 'new' section with the fence partially finished:
And a look from the other direction with a nice view of my high tech grass suppression system....
I can't quite envision what I'm going to do in this new spot. There WILL be shade on it in the afternoon from nearby oak trees, but it will still get more sun than the other location.
But if this is not the utter definition of bleak, I don't know what is.
Though looking through the seed catalogs does seem to stir certain dormant feelings of hope. It's one thing that confirmed gardeners possess. Stubborn hope.
While I was outdoors with the camera already in hand, I decided to take a few photos of the hens, who despite the weather and the season, the fog and the gloom, are actually in fine feather.... literally.... as they all molted in late fall and are preening their full and beautiful plumage right now...
Miss Phoebe.
Miss Jilly.
I will NEVER get over Lydia's pale gray tail feathers.... EVER :
Miss Goldie is still the smallest hen. But not lowest in the pecking order. That's still Jill.
And lastly, I'm taking a picture of this corner of Sunny's dog pen. I put plants in here to keep them safe from the &%$#* deer. It is a terrible mess right now, but it is first on my list of places to clean up as soon as we have some kind of moderately warm day. I'm taking it as a reference photo for a nice before and after.
So that's the story morning glory.
Oh boo hoo.... I wish we COULD look at some morning glories right now.
But just you wait.
I have plans.
And a goodly supply of Gardener's Hope.