In which I blather on about plants, mainly hostas and their “hardiness” (feckers just won’t die) with only a brief diversion of blathering about the vagaries of Kentucky weather.
The previous owner of my house planted misc things for curb appeal. Hostas, azaleas, peonies, and a miniature dwarf Japanese maple (or possibly dwarf miniature Japanese maple, or maybe even Japanese miniature dwarf maple). So many hostas . . .
Most of the planting was done not when she first listed the house. She planted after the sale was pending. (She also, apparently on advice of her realtor, painted much of the interior a color I can only describe as nicotine yellow.) I guess she already bought the plants?
The azaleas are fine. I have very pointedly ignored them for 23 years. No special plant food or pruning or mulch. I avoid looking directly at them lest they wither from attention. They are doing great.
I have actively tried to kill the hostas and peonies. I’ve even tried to dig them up several times. They get bigger and stronger every year.
The bed with one of the peonies and an infinite number of hostas — and the mini maple — was partially dug up when the gas company connected my house to the new and improved main line. Normally I leave the beds alone until at least mid-May to let any hibernating pollinators rest, but this was my chance. The bed already disturbed. Those em-effing hostas are going down.
Easter Sunday was very pleasant. Somehow I actually tricked myself into starting operation: hosta death. They were just coming up. I dug up everything on or near the gas line. And flung them down the hill to the driveway for later cleanup.
The poor mini maple, which had originally been planted right on top of the gas line because yeah, was horizontal. It, too, went down the hill, tho less violently because maybe I can keep it for a pumpkin tree in October. We’ll see.
It was the first of any kind of yard work for the season. The ground was very hard. I was beat. I did not clear away the dug up hostas, but left them lying on the driveway with whatever bit of earth clung to their roots.
Like I said, first yard work, spur of the moment (lest I talk myself out of it). I didn’t think. Rashes from poison ivy and virginia creeper and maybe a third evil weed. One eye nearly sealed shut for several days.
And the temperature dropped. Like plummeted from 60-70 to barely 40 with overnight freezes. We even had special weather statements from NOAA. And heavy rains with flooding. And strong winds with tornadoes. More special weather statements and alerts and warnings and watches. (Special weather statements are not very special or effective when you have at least one every day. Just sayin’.)
I didn’t get back out to do anything with the hostas in the driveway for almost two weeks.
So here’s the not-hyperbole — I can’t kill them even when I try. They will not die.
Seriously.
Lying in heaps on asphalt through miserable weather March 31 - April 11 and they’re still alive and growing. No, really. Not just not dead. Growing. They’ve gone from 2”-3” sprouts to recognizable hosta younglings over 6”. No, they’re not growing as quickly as their kith and kin still up in the bed, but still.
Friday, covered neck down in multiple layers to avoid another round of skin allergies and because it was 47F, I dug up more hostas. They’re getting pretty big despite the cold and rain and high winds. There are still more hostas. The biggest of all. But I am determined they will go.
Yes, I plan to plant other things in that bed. I already transplanted the lavender and rosemary which spent the winter inside. And there will be more lavender and rosemary and mint and sage — plants which attract pollinators but repel ants and mosquitoes, unlike hostas and peonies which seem to draw ants and every invasive beetle — in a rocky bed to hopefully slow down the bad weeds.
Today is first mow of the year. If I can start the mower. If I survive that, I’ll dig up the remaining hostas.
p.s. I got the larger very pink peony out, damaged but not dead. She has gone to a new home. Since my mo-fo hostas are the undead of the plant world, I will try to temporarily pot a few to give as a housewarming present to a friend who has always wanted them when I go on these anti-hosta sprees.
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