It's Been a Minute, Part One

When life throws a lot at me, I tend to turn inward.  That's fine for seeking mental refuge from a transcendental hurricane, but not for keeping folks engaged with your blog.  That was a weird analogy, but it's what came to mind, so... there ya go.

It's been a minute since I last posted.  And here's why...

• Two months ago, I was in Louisiana for a couple weeks to do research for my first book.  

There will be more (much more) about that in the near future.  It was a great trip, but I can't even begin down that road right now, or we'll be here all day and all night.  (I promise... much more on that later.)

• One month ago, we were in the midst of a big home project: sealing the crawl space. 

There was a lot involved with this, and not all of it happened under the house.  Trenching down to the footer of the foundation around three sides of our house was one part of the scope of the project. 

Before their crew began, the company told us to move any plants located within two feet of the foundation that we wanted to save.  Which I did.  In August.  (Yes, it's possible.  Definitely not ideal and certainly not advisable... but possible.  Mind you, it's only been five weeks since transplanting, but the signs of successful adjustment are positive, so I remain hopeful.)  I had to hack the crap out of two Hydrangea quercifolia 'Little Honey' I transplanted, but, if all goes well, they will have nicer shapes in a year or two.

One day after transplanting 2 dwarf golden oakleaf hydrangeas and a special epimedium

The company told us there would be heavy machinery involved.  Okeedokee.  Access was limited for their excavator.  They could use it to trench in front, but the other two sides of the house would have to be dug by hand, which they did with amazing speed and ability.  (BTW, I have a new tool interest: an electric, non-industrial sized jackhammer.  Who knew?!  It appeared to go through compacted clay like a warm knife through butter.  Yes, please!)

Here's what I didn't think about: Where were they going to pile all the excavated dirt?  In hindsight, it seems like that thought process absolutely should have occurred to me, preferably prior to the commencement of trenching, but it didn't.  Okay, pivot.  The piles were temporary anyway.

Ummmm, heeeeeeeyyyyyy... there are/were plants there....

In the front of the house, where they could use the excavator, the crew worked so quickly that within a couple of hours most of the trench was dug... aaand a garden area was rolled over and piled upon.  I peered out the front window to see the work in progress, and I had to do some deep breathing.  Okay... well, plants are tough.  (Breathe)  We'll just see what makes it, and work from there. (Breathe)  Don't flip out.  (Breathe)  That bed was going to eventually completely change anyway.  (Breathe)  Think about how much better the house will smell... and how much healthier the air will be... Don't. Flip. Out. (Breeeeaaaaaathe)

 

Just park that anywhere... like on top of some plants in front of our house.

Because they were not planted within two feet of the foundation in that bed, I did not dig and save a rose that I had for almost 20 years, or the four Hydrangea serrata 'O Amacha Nishiki' that I rooted years ago, and planned to transplant to my Mom's garden this fall.  The bright green foliage just in front of (and under) the excavator's tread in the photo above is one of the hydrangeas.  The day after that picture was taken, that hydrangea was rolled over and piled upon as well.  Well sshhhhiiiiiiiiiiiiiit, as my Aunt Betty would say.  

Okay, pivot.  I've seen plants come back from this sort of abuse before.  Survival wasn't completely outside the realm of possibility.  Even if they were rolled over, maybe they would come back from the roots.  Plants can withstand having dirt piled on them, as long as they're uncovered in time.  They don't like it, but they can (sometimes) survive it.

But there was one silver lining in the stormy cloud of the perceived destruction of this garden area.  

There was an old Camellia sasanqua in that bed, planted within ONE FOOT of the house and directly in front of an air vent (I am not kidding you).  I had been hacking it down to a nub for years, with the eventual goal of outright removal.  (I know, that sounds cruel, but hear me out on this.  Our siding is wood.  Planting a broad-leaved evergreen that wants to be 15' across and 20' high in a location like that isn't exactly great for a) maximizing airflow to the crawl space, b) discouraging rot of said siding, much less wood-loving insect activity.)  Normally, I'd take the plant out myself, and I tried to at one point, but the stump was really big and really tough.  Yeah, well, it was no match for the excavator.  So, that was a cool bonus.

Moving to the back and side of the house... Thankfully, the crew had extra heavy plastic (the kind they would later use under the house) and unrolled it on our deck as a landing zone for all the dirt.  They hand-dug the trench against the house, and piled the dirt on the plastic.  I thanked them for their forethought. 

Back of house trenching... not my idea of summer fun, but a learning opportunity nonetheless.

 

From the comfort of the indoors, the dogs and I watched the guys work, digging and sweating, until the dirt pile was about 6' wide by 3' high by however long the house is.  (Who am I kidding?  The dogs mostly slept.)  When the crew got to the far corner of the house, trenching ground to a halt. 

(I'm going to digress for a minute, but it'll make sense when I'm done.

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There's a gardening lesson here.  Write this down.  Or type it into your Notes app, or whatever you do to remember things you should always remember.

When choosing and siting foundation plantings, do Future You and your home a favor:

1. Know your plant material.  Ultimate height and width.  Not just the standard info they put on the tag.
2. Do NOT plant too closely to the house.  Trust me on this one.
   

Just after our house was built (1961), someone planted an Ilex opaca at the back corner.  (There was one at the front corner as well, but we took that one out shortly after we moved in, in 2001.)  Great tree, our native holly.  Bees love it.  Birds love it.  I love it.  But not when it's planted within 18" of the corner of our house.  I'm sure it was nice when it was first planted.  Heck, it was kinda nice when we cut it down about 10 years ago.  The stump hasn't rotted away, yet.  (It continued to sprout until about 5 years ago.)   Okay, digression is done; back to the trenching.

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For a couple hours straight, the guys took turns going at the roots and stump of that old holly, using every tool in their arsenal.  I know they were cussing because they couldn't bring that excavator back there.  

Please don't plant too closely to the house.  Future You will be grateful.

The youngest member of the crew apparently drew the short straw the next day.  He worked on that stump with a mattock until there was enough chipped away so they could seal the exterior of the foundation and put down new drainage pipes without crimping them at a hard 90 degree angle.  It took that poor fella most of the day to do it.  

As a (thinking) gardener, I knew how asinine that planting was.  I apologized to the young man several times over, and wondered if that experience would turn him off to gardening.  I certainly couldn't blame him if it did.  

Stay tuned for the wrap-up of this big project.  There are more gardening lessons ahead.  And I promise it won't be "a minute" before I post again.

Yours in Dirt,

Andrea