No, we didn't have a particularly rainy winter, but then I'm just learning
Conroe. We moved here in October a year ago and I have now seen the
seasons rotate. You wouldn't think there was so much difference just 40 miles
from Houston. But there is.
My gardening up till now has been geared to keep things from burning
up. Well, here in the woods as it were, there's not enough sun for roses
in the ground. So I have them in pots that I shove around chasing the
Hostas seemed like a good idea and they do take wonderful photos. I
never venture in the water one toe first. I belly flop. So of course
I ordered everything I could find and stuck it in the ground. And it all
did well until the freezes began. Where they went beats me. I think
perhaps intergalactic aliens.
It's not the money, it's the failure. I hate it when plants die, but
it's better if I can see them die and remove their little bodies.
You can't believe how astounded we were the night the deer came. I
didn't have hostas then, but the shade bed was awash in pansies and my Old
English Sheepdogs were hurling themselves at the library window and swearing
furiously. They may have come since, but we didn't know it. Conroe
has been an experience. Mostly nice.
And since this is most likely our final place, I'd better find something
that will thrive and grow and come back every year. My knees don't get up
very well anymore. They go down just fine. I did so want hostas.
Big, fat, many leaved hostas.