Hey. I have an idea.

This is last night's sunset.  Look at that shit.  It looks like a fucking painting of Italy, except for one thing:  Pretty sure that Italy is NOT defaced with old-school telephone poles and wires.  Lots of places aren't.  They've replaced all the old shit with underground stuff.  It looks way nicer and doesn't get fucked up every time a storm like Irene shows up, which brings us to my amazing, brilliant idea.

Tons of people are out of work and this country is really suffering.  I say let's fix the infrastructure.  Give people jobs.  Make it pretty.  This is supposed to be America the Beautiful, for fuck's sake.  C'mon, Mr. Obama.  Let's get some Roosevelt action up in this joint- WPA all the way.

This message has been brought to you by The Angry Gardener.  I get pissed off when my sunsets are messed up, dig?

Stoofoo, Crickets*

I hear crickets.  They started exactly on August 1st and they haven't shut up since.  It's a lovely sound except that it lullllllllllllllllllllllllllllls.  It's like they are trying to put me to sleep for the winter already.  I say, "Crickets, shut the fuck up and get a calendar."  It's like this:  Summer officially lasts until September 23rd, so for any of you, crickets included, that are prematurely bemoaning the end up summer, please do shut the fuck up.  It aint over till it's over.  The leaves on the trees are GREEN.  My flowers are still blooming.  There is no "back to school" shit around here.  The windows are still open.  THE SUN IS SHINING, OKAY??!!!  We are not about pumpkins and colored leaves and shit yet.  Get it?  Good.  Thank you and enjoy your summer.

This message has been brought to you by The Angry Gardener.

*Stoofoo is STFU spelled phonetically.

PS:  Those are my hummingbird feeders in the picture.  I am not washing them and putting them away for the year because the hummingbirds KNOW it's still summer and they're still here.  I was just washing and refilling them.  S'there.

Ask the Angry Gardener

Elaine asks,

AG: My question is: If I bought a vine at Home Depot on a whim 2 years ago, it spent the last couple years in a crappy plastic pot & somehow survived (which makes me respect it), I finally planted it in my front yard only to then google it & find it is an invasive species, is it wrong for me to be secretly delighted & not rip it out by its roots & toss it in my green bin? Thanks.

Elaine's house

Dear Elaine,

I'm not sure I even know where to start.  First of all, I'd like to know what the vine is.  After all, we do live in the INFORMATION AGE.  Secondly, you said, "bin," not "garbage can."  So... are you in the UK?  Do they even have Home Depot there or are you just trying to destroy my blood pressure for sport?  Thirdly, what google source describes your vine as invasive?  

Since I don't have the above information, we have to turn this into a boring lesson about the definition of "invasive" as pertains to plants.  It's about as specific as the definition of "weed" or "native species".  Why must you fuck with me on today of all days?  Now I have to google on behalf of your ignorant-big-box-shopping ass.  Hold on.  Let me look.

Okay, here:  http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Invasive_species.  I did the work, now you do the reading.

Sincerely,

The Angry Gardener

PS:  What do you mean "if" you bought a vine.  Did you or didn't you?  I want answers, Elaine.

Blech

Japanese beetle destroying Harry Lauder shrub.

Me destroying Japanese beetles.

I've been picking these nasty little fuckers off the shrub every time I pass by.  I drop them into a mason jar of water and dish soap.  They are not easy to flick into the jar unless you have gloves on.  I squeam every time I touch one by accident without gloves.  Then I cuss some more.

This message has been brought to you by the pesticide-free Angry Gardener.

PS:  Sometimes going organic is just fucking nasty.  Suck it up and do it.

PSS:  I didn't put the grasshopper in there.  It must have suicided.

Mornin'

Another shot of the rose garden.  So beautiful and the best part is that I don't have to do a fucking thing for them.  I can just visit and enjoy.

Little Fucker

Chipmunks are kinda cute.  They don't bother me or my gardens as much as squirrels do.  Their apartment complexes in the stone walls provide endless entertainment for Monster.  And I love how they raise their little flag tails when crossing streets.  But this is not cute:

In case you're wondering, he's not dead.  I thought he might be.  It was really hot out and I thought maybe he ate so much he couldn't fit his fat little ass back out of the hole.  But no.  He was frozen with fear due to my huge human eyes being level with his.  I tilted the feeder and he bolted.  What pisses me off the most is that he's not really eating.  He's just stuffing his face and then storing the seeds where MY BIRDS can't get it.  Fuck you, cutie.

This message has been brought to you by The Angry Gardener

Strange Bedfellows

It seems that the EPA (Environmental Protection??? Agency) and Dupont have teamed up to kill some trees.  Have a click here if you'd like to know more .

This message has been brought to you by The Angry Gardener.  

(There's always plenty to get pissed about!)

PS:  New York does not allow the use of Imprelis.  We do allow gay marriage.  w00t.

Ask the Angry Gardener

It seems while I've been busy weeding, taking pictures, making bouquets and generally minding my own business, my mail box has filled up.  With idiots.

Let's start with this one:

Dear Angry Gardener,  

You call THAT, "dressing it up??" Where the hell are the gnomes...or even a friggin' bird bath?? You really do need my input!
Sincerely,
SID LYON

This same "SID" also had this to say:

SID said...

I think you're angry because you have not used any lawn decorations that might cheer you up and make you smile. Your garden is very boring due to the lack of them. Take a tip from me...DRESS IT UP!!

 

Apparently SID thinks he or she should be the one dispensing advice around here.  The only problem with that, of course, is that this is my blog and my non-fucking-tacky-ass garden.  Nonetheless, we can't leave the trolls to just starve, can we?  That would be cruel.  Besides, I like to think I can be open-minded.  I can be, but that implies that I might be wrong about something.  And I'm not.  

 

Here you go, SID.  I got flocked by the American Cancer Society- a perfect opportunity to try your shitty ideas.

I tried to embrace the opportunity.

Feeding time with the native bird population.

Migratory formation.

But the locals got annoyed.

So I marched them into the woods.

The way was hot and humid, fraught with malaria.

Menacing little fuckers.

Even Monster turned up his nose at them.  Out they go.

I hope that answers your "question," SID.

PS:  This SID is not the same as this one:

Sid said... 

Hey,chill out,angry one !!!! 

Dear Not-All-Caps Sid,

You'd be angry too if you had to humor plastic lovers. 

PS:  Both the Angry Gardener and The Mister support The American Cancer Society and we absolutely loved getting "flocked".  Google "flocking" + your area to see if you can go flock yourself.  

 

PSS:  Please forgive horrid formatting.  Angry Gardener is angry with Blogger's formatting stuff. 

 

This message has been brought to you by The Angry Gardener.

The Tiger Lilies Bloomed!

 Woohoo!

 Since they bloom upside down, I had to put the camera UNDER them to get this shot.

Then I flipped it right side up using computer magic.

PS:  These ARE tiger lilies.  Orange daylilies/ ditch lilies/ hemerocallis are NOT tiger lilies.  Again, stop calling them that.  If even one person learns to just stop it this year, I'll be happy.  Till it starts all over again next year. 

This Better Be GOOD- or Else!

So I'm touring around and stop to check on my cardinal flowers.  They bloom very late in the season which, if you are a perennial gardener, you know is very valuable- so many of them finish so early in the season- poppies, irises, lupine, peony, bleeding heart, and so on.  Here is what the cardinal flower will look like.

Stunning, yes?  It's even more so in person.  I have yet to see a photo that truly does it justice.  It's also special to me because I loved seeing them bloom in the Adirondacks in late summer when I was a kid, so it's a good memory type plant for me, a lovely native.  Now look closely at that top pic.  I think if you click on it, it'll get bigger.  The plants on the left and right are cardinal flowers.  So just WHAT is that fucker in the center hogging up their space and water?  (Cardinal flowers grow at the edges of lakes and streams in full sun.  They like a lot of water so I put them in this particular spot because it gets a ton of run-off from the porch roof.)  I will tell you what:  I don't KNOW what the fucker in the middle is.  Since I don't and it looks like it's about to bloom, I'll leave it be.  For a minute.  If it's some sorry ass weed it's getting the old heave-ho.

Today's lesson:  That "weed" might be something incredibly badass.  If you're not sure, leave it be till it blooms.  If it turns out to be crap, yank it, curse it and don't compost it.

This message has been brought to you by The Angry Gardener

Ask the Angry Gardener

Red Blogger said...
Dear Angry Gardener
I don't really do gardening much but we have a patch of yellow grass near our fence. I know this is due to the dog pissing along the fence and I know I have 2 options but thought I'd ask which one you would go for - do I paint the rest of the grass yellow to match the patch, or do I just shoot the dog!

First I'd like to address a couple of points for our readers:  

1. For those of you that don't know, Red Blogger is British.  Or English.  Or UKish or  whatever the hell they call it.  
2. British people call their yards "gardens" regardless of whether they do any actual gardening or not.  
3. I happen to know that Red Blogger, unlike normal Brits, does NOT do any gardening, so why she gives a shit about a little patch of yellow grass is beyond me.  

Now that we've cleared that up, I will address the question.  

Dear Red Blogger,

I am staunchly against lawns.  In fact, we are in the process of completely destroying the lawn here and replacing it with flowers.  Any "lawn" that you see in our photographs is a future flower bed.  To answer your question, if you're going to continue to refuse to plant flowers/ be unpatriotic, then by all means, paint the rest of it yellow.

If however, your dog is an evil, horrid beagle, destroy it for the good of all humankind.

Sincerely,
The Angry Gardener

PS:  Give me the birdbath.  Do it! 

Ask the Angry Gardener

Rage Guy said...
Dear Angry Gardener:

Y U So Angry???  Also, can you recommend a good way to control rabbits in the garden?  Especially the extra cute ones, they seem to do the most damage.

Dear Rage Guy,

Don't try to bait me.

Sincerely,
The Angry Gardener 

Ask the Angry Gardener

Alright.  No one asked me a fucking thing today.  I love answering [your] questions but since no one asked, I have made my own damn question. 

Dear Angry Gardener,

I have many lovely plants but they just don't seem to bloom profusely.  I have tried coffee grounds, compost tea and Flower-Tone, all to no avail.  What do you suggest?

Sincerely,
Fiona Abernathy Kensington, Esquire

Dear FAKE,

I appreciate your predicament even though I don't share the problem and never have.  Here is an example:

These flowers, as viewed from my kitchen window this morning, seem, at first glance, to be poor performers.  I don't tolerate that shit, especially before I've had my coffee.  I have a simple solution.  I raise the window and shriek at them, "WAKE THE FUCK UP YOU USELESS SHITS!"  

Works every time.  Save your compost tea for annoying co- workers and ex- lovers.

Sincerely,

The Angry Gardener

PS:  You sound like a pansy ass.  Stay in the greenhouse where it's safe.

Delphiniums Piss Me Off

You know those pictures of incredible cottage gardens that always have an abundance of gorgeous five foot tall delphiniums?  Well, I've been trying to achieve that my whole gardening life, and this is what I get- one scrawny shorty of a delph.  I planted a whole fucking packet of seeds in that spot last year and got exactly ONE flower.  I'm not sure but I think they're biennials.  If that's the case, this plant's a goner at the end of this season.  It'll never be five feet tall.  And now I'll have to harvest its seeds and try AGAIN.  Stupid delphs. I will make you my Bouquet of the Day someday, bitch.

This message has been brought to you by The Angry Gardener.

A Lovely Little Tale That Ends Badly

Once upon a time, I met a lovely person online and happened to find out that she is a Brand New Gardener.  Nothing quite matches the excitement and enthusiasm of discovering gardening for the first time.  BNG is always asking me questions and learning and sending me pictures.  She's hooked and it's been fun for me to relive those feelings.  Well.  Yesterday she experienced her first gardening tragedy.  Blight, you ask?  No, not blight.  A horrible hail storm?  Nay.  Deer!  No, worse.  Much, much worse.

A fucking HUMAN thief!  BNG lives in a lovely little town that isn't known for crime- until now.  At around 11 PM on Sunday, she let her cat in for the night.  The rose was still there looking lovely (see below).

Upon discovering the theft Monday morning, BNG did what any sane and devoted gardener would do:  She attempted to follow the petal and dirt trail but alas, it turned cold.  Next, she called the authorities.  The police came and she filed an incident report.  They were flummoxed too.  After all, what kind of asshole STEALS a rose right out of its pot?  As it turns out, BNG lives only a few doors down from the local watering hole.  She suspects some drunkard grabbed it hoping to appease his angry wife- "Yeth, I'm late and I'm drunk, but here'th thome rothes!" (while clods of dirt fall to the carpet and thorns pierce his hands and forearms).

Needless to say, this makes Angry Gardener angry, but the story doesn't end here.  BNG is still on the case.  Hopefully justice will be served.

First Daylily of Summer

Daylilies are NOT tiger lilies.  See here.  So stop calling them that.  It fucking irritates me.

Home again, Finnegan

I was too busy unpacking and whatnotting yesterday to post when I got home.  For instance, it was very necessary to tour the garden while I waited for my mister to come home from work.  It was rainy and damp enough to justify chicken soup for dinner.   And of course Monster needed hugging.  Barney just needed food.  He does not do hugs. You know.  Whatnots.  

Anyway, this is the sign my lovely friend* had in the screen house part of the camper.  I sat facing it.  A lot.  I liked it so much that one night I copied it into my notebook over and over, Bart Simpson style.  Hopefully it'll keep the Angry Gardener in check, eh?

*All of my friends are lovely so I have decided to give them pseudonyms here so as to avoid confusion.  Camping friend shall henceforth be known as Teller, but not like Teller from Penn and Teller.  In fact, very unlike that Teller.  He never talks.  My Teller always talks.  She is a truth teller and a story teller.  Even the stories are true.

Dear Becky,

You are a shit- sucking weasel.  

Sincerely,

The Angry Gardener

So here's the deal.  Occasionally I sell plant divisions via good ol' craigslist.  Most of the people I meet are awesome.  They are, after all, fellow gardeners.  But once in a while, I get a no-show.  I hate that shit.  Today, I was having a fine time visiting a friend.  I had to cut it short because I was expecting Becky here at 3 o'clock to buy plants.  Becky couldn't be bothered to show up.  That would be perfectly understandable if A) She's dead.  B) She had the courtesy to call or email and let me know she couldn't make it.  She did none of the those things to my knowledge.  (Perhaps she is dead.  How the hell would I know?) 

I have the plants priced well below retail.  I took the time to make an ad and follow up with phone calls to people who responded.  I rearranged my schedule to accommodate Becky.  I was ready and willing to dig in the pouring rain.  I hate you, Becky.*

*Again, I am too fucking polite, maybe even chicken, to email or call her and speak this frankly.  For now.  Don't be my no- show tipping point, k?  If you are, I will probably post your email address and phone number in the Rants and Raves section.  And I won't be raving.

Bouquet of the Day

Pink rose with lysimachia punctata

PS:  These were growing in a friend's garden and my pickin' fingers got itchy.  That rose smells heavenly, unlike so many of the newer hybrids, but please do note the insect or disease damage on the leaves.  Bitchy, bitchy, bitchy- just like another rose I know.

Rescue

First I cleaned up this area. Whoever lived here before loved landscape fabric and gravel. This pisses me off no end.

Unearthing it and throwing it in the garbage is really hard but so worth it.

Variegated hosta and forget-me-not under the now dead birch. I did NOT plant that broad-leafed shitweed that is so prominent in the picture. (I'm trying to be more ladylike. I actually call it fuckerweed due to its horrid taproot that makes it impossible to remove).

It's choking the hostas which need to be moved anyway so they don't get damaged when the tree comes down.

Supplies: Bucket of rescued hosta, bucket of rescued spiderwort from another overgrown area, a few evening primrose, transplant spade, water, slug beer and kneeler.

Ta dum! Also, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking that it looks like shit. It's all sparse and that side of the woodshed needs painting and the plants look all roughed up. You gotta see it like a gardener, see what will be and not what is. I will send you back to this post in a month or two and you'll see what I mean.

PS: I didn't hide the slug beer well enough. Monster drank it all. At least this time there weren't actual slugs in it though he has never let that get in the way of enjoying his beer.