When I got home, I unloaded all the things Mom likes to pile on me when I visit. Old stuff for a yard sale I'm planning in a few weeks, food that she took to church this morning and no one ate, and of course, guilt. I don't come home enough, or something. But she doesn't understand the gardening aspect of my life. So I took her the largest container of brugs, pinks and yellows. She mentioned last year when she saw mine that she would like to have some for her yard. I even planted them. I also took her a rooted fig cutting and a newly rooted Weeping Willow. I bet she mows them down next week when she cuts the grass with the huge riding mower.
I spent about an hour taking inventory of all my containers. The lids have been off for a week or so since the daytime temperatures have been so high. Watering has become a daily chore as they dry out quickly even in partial shade. I removed everything from the racks and spaced them out in the driveway. It looks like I'm starting a home for wayward plants. At least now, I can use the sprinkler on a 15 minute timer to water everything while I'm off admiring the latest foliage, growth, and even blooms.
It's 84 degrees. I'm sunburned from planting a pile of seedlings in my sister's one flower bed. Her "helpful" husband thought he would tidy up last December while stringing Christmas lights on anything that couldn't run away. He pulled all the coreopsis, shasta daisies, and columbine. I noticed today, she had a lot of reseeds from the annuals. She's also got a gazillion datura seedlings popping up. In the bed around the Japanese Maple, there are hundreds of tiny cherry tomato plants I gave her last year. I only planted six.