If you were to ask me, now, why I did this I could give you no good answer other than because it was there, and because I could. Sure, it looks nice; stunning even, if for no other reason than the sheer volume of effort the result represents; and it’s still not done. But, Merciful God on High, it is close. I’m finding it hard to resist planting plant media in the various areas I initially intended for rock, insofar as my plan of a maintenance-free dry (Japanese) garden. The original argument included the inconvenience of caring for the flowers on an awkward hill with unstable stepping stones, randomly placed and poorly dug into the ground, that would shift and slide, placing the gardener at risk of fracturing a hip or suffering blunt head trauma from impacting one of the aforementioned stones. However, now with the convenience of 8 steps at regular intervals as much a part of mother earth as, say, the Grand Teton (currently closed), accessing the various planting beds would be as simple as dropping to a foam knee-pad on a stable stone ledge and taking care of business. Hmmm…we’ll see what the boss says.
I planted a Twisty Baby Locust tree yesterday at the top of the hill. On the right are fabric covered sections awaiting black stone, and a few pots. The small green plant on the right, at the top, is a green-seedless grape vine that I’m going to grow along the lattice.
I’ve placed 12 low-voltage lights here and there, and should have got conduit larger than half-inch. I managed to make it work, but only after smashing the knuckles of my right hand against a stone when the fish pulled free of the wires (secured with electrical tape per instructions–obviously not secure enough).
Diamond blades last a long time. I never changed my first one, and I bought at least five. I should have plenty for my next endeavor in the spring which will require much more cutting of stone. I should finish up in one more uninterrupted weekend, as soon as I get my cobblestone circle delivered by Bissen.
Had I the intellect, or at least the common sense to more accurately foresee what lay in front of me before I started, I doubt I’d have begun. Rather; I’d have said, “Look, Honey, it’s not so bad. I’ll have those weeds pulled in a jiffy; and this fall, I’ll happily cut everything down with my machete; and next spring,” with a song in my heart I’m sure, “I’ll thin, and transplant, and mulch the garden on a slope between a fence and a waterfall.”