The last Sunday in November, with temperatures in the 70’s: the primrose path of global warming. The bulbs I bought in August needed planting and the zucchini ripping out. The crocus and sparaxis will be up in no time, despite the “early Spring” and “late Spring” designations on the packages. Nothing is observing the seasons these days; bearded iris are in bloom, and an ornamental pear tree around the corner is losing its leaves and flowering.
Some plants, however, know no season, and will not be stopped. Last spring, I went through my vegetable beds with diligence, pulling oxalis plants, sifting through the first nine inches for the burnished copper bulbs and their little white children, with the result of having fairly weed-free beds during the summer. Yes, I thought, I have conquered!
After the fall harvest, I let the beds sit, which only encouraged the deeper bulbs to put forth new shoots. Today was D-day. Armed with my Japanese hoe/weeder, I hacked, pulled, cleared and finally covered the bed with landscape cloth to see if I can discourage the next generation.
(this is beginning to have creepy parallels to the situation in Afghanistan-no, no, I am not a soldier!)