Ode to Zane's Garden

When we lived in Seattle Zane would always mow the lawn of our next-door neighbor because, well, she didn't. He has always thought it ridiculous when people stop at the very inch where the property line ends and have a gorgeous lawn when the one next to it, and connected to it, is six inches tall and has gone to seed. Zane hasn't ever tried to assume why someone hasn't mowed their lawn, he just does it. The woman who lived there once knocked on the door when I was home and said, in a British accent, "Tell your boyfriend thank you for working in my garden!" I was totally baffled. Then I translated boyfriend into hubby, and garden into lawn and it made sense. 

So, one of the billions of things I love about him. He reminds me of the beehive that is a symbol of the Mormon people. Hard working, and never stopping to think about whether or not he should be so.

When we bought our current home the back yard was a mess. It had lawn at one time, but the three big dogs that lived here had trampled it to nothing and the previous owner had dug an underground den of sorts (complete with a huge plywood roof) for his dogs to burrow into when it was cold. Or hot Or rainy. Or something.  That was all their was. Dirt, some 99% dead grass and dog poop. 

Zane has taken it upon himself to remake our back yard into a lush mini Seattle. It is beautiful. He has good taste and is thrifty to boot. A lot of the plants are second hand, from one of the St. Luke's buildings that got a landscape remodel, or cast-offs from our neighbors, whether they know it or not. My husband has been known to pick out plants and bushes from their trash piles and nurse them back to life. Thank you Zane for making me feel like I have my own little Garden of Eden in the back yard!

I love the 'favorite places' post that Zane made as a surprise

for us while we were gone to Utah for a couple of weeks.

We still need to amend the two Grandma signs.

Beautiful bleeding hearts. They remind me of Grandpa Jennings' yard.

A cute kitty and a cute garden stone we made for Granny with

Eliza's hand print when she was about a year old.

A few years ago my Grandpa gave us a bicycle that belonged

to my dad when he was a young boy. It wasn't in any condition
to be repaired, but Zane has made a special spot for it under our
oak tree. In the summer he wires a flower pot on the front of it. 

The stone walls are made of the concrete that we took out of the

basement walls to make room for bigger windows. 

Annie helping me check out the raspberry bushes that came
from the gardens of one of my sweet D.U.P. friends.

This is my project. It is too many indecisive years in the making.

Any opinions on the color?