Hubster and I bought our house three and a half years ago. I wanted to run screaming the first time I laid my eyes on the house. He looked past the waist high grass, taller than the window shrubs on the exteriors and yet beyond the purple shag carpet, pink walls, and bird stencils and saw the potential. We like to do things ourselves, but we were biting off more than we could chew. Today we have a lovely home, but are still working to make it our dream home.
The previous owner left only a few hidden gems behind: three large oak trees, an overgrown rosebush, an overgrown lilac bush and a sparse scattering of grape hyacinths. Last weekend, I decided to dig up the grape hyacinths and transplant them in my front garden. Hubster was about to mow for the first time this Spring and I had to race him to avoid their demise. The first few times I tried to dig up the small fragile flowers, I split some bulbs and pulled the tops off of the others. After a few tries, the rest came up effortlessly. I quickly dug a small bucket full of these intact grape hyacinths and bulbs and decided that I would just have to wait until next year to dig up more of those tiny bulbs. I transplanted them among my daffodils. This year they may not look glamorous,
but next year they will bloom just as beautifully. I only wish I had some miniature daffodils to plant them with. Here’s looking to next year’s blooms…