Plant Orphans

I know that it's really summertime when I can finally lounge in my hammock chair. Aaahhhhhh.

Last evening, I supervised John as he was doing some lawnwork. I could point and direct very conveniently from my chair and not even break a sweat. So as poor John was working away as I was blabbing and pointing and directing, it occurred to me how many of my favorite plants and trees out there were orphan plants. Plants that were unwanted. Unloved. And about to be - gasp! - thrown in a compost heap somewhere until we saved them.

Hank and Leslie gave us this flowering plum tree probably about eleven or twelve years ago.

They gave us these Thompson seedless grapes, too.

These Douglas Fir trees came from Greg and Terese's. Hard to tell the scale of these guys but the fence is six feet tall there.

Neighbors Dan and Deb gave us this great dappled willow tree. I love the white and green foliage.

This beautiful rhododendron and...

....this I don't know what it is but I call it a snowball bush...live happily next to each other after one of John's co-workers dug them up.

And then there's THESE. I hate THESE. I don't know where these things come from but they sprout everywhere.

I don't know what to do with THESE, either.

But she's too cute to uproot, so I guess we'll keep her.

And then......there's these. They're holly bushes that John refuses to give up on. I really think they're bordering on dead, but he just keeps on pruning and fertilizing and saying nice things to them. I give them another month. Sorry, John.

True story - John refused to admit that a pine tree had died in the yard of one of our previous houses. The thing was orange and had probably twelve needles stuck to it, but he was adamant that it would come back eventually. Until our back-yard neighbor sneaked over and spray painted part of the tree bright green. Poor John - I really hated to break the news to him that the tree hadn't really miraculously sprouted new green needles. I always enjoyed that woman's strange sense of humor. Hm. Wonder why?

What? More of THESE?

I wonder if they'd like living where the holly bushes died.