Curse you, Myrtle Money.
This past weekend was the Crape Myrtle Festival at Homestead Gardens. It almost slipped past me this year, but Saturday afternoon I was sorting some mail and found the postcard reminding me, with its cheery 'bring this in and get $25 in Myrtle Money" note. And of course, I had another chunk of Myrtle Money stashed away in my wallet.
Without a thought, I said, 'of course, I'll go tomorrow morning.'
As the sage of Springfield would say: Doh!
Seriously, what sort of fool am I?
The sort who will go to the garden centre at 8:30 on a Sunday morning in July and buy big perennials, apparently.
Baptisia x 'Carolina Moonlight' in a 1-gallon pot. What's worse than buying a big perennial in July? Buying a big yellow perennial in July. I am not, foxgloves and primroses aside, a great fan of yellow flowers, and yet I bought this plant: this plant that will grow to 36' x 36' at least, this plant that will be covered with yellow flowers. Did they attach a brain slug to me when I walked in there?
Willow-leafed Eastern Bluestar (Amsonia tabernaemontana Walter var. salicifolia in a half-gallon pot. This also grows up to be about 3 feet in all directions, but I can almost forgive myself because it's a beautiful blue-flowered native, and it will fill a spot in the border that could use a little grace.
A camellia (japonica, 'Lester M. Allen,' semidouble pink) in a 2-gallon pot. A camellia, people. It's July and I bought a camellia for which I will have to dig at least a 5-gallon hole before I go to the beach next month.
I tried to console myself with the fact that I managed to use exactly the amount of Myrtle Money I had, and when all was said and done it was like getting all three plants for 50% off, but still. July. Big holes. What?
Alfred, Lord Tennyson