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Cuppa really really really liked them, so they stayed in my mind. So, Cuppa's to blame.
So, when I passed some nice looking inexpensive specimens at W*M, I brought one home ↓↓ ... after paying for it ... naturally. I guess, therefore, that W*M is to blame.
The best planting spot that we could come up with was already occupied by a hosta, so I guess the former owner could be blamed for me having to move it. And for me having to enlarge the tiny garden by moving rocks which he or she put there so the hydrangea would fit. Said former owner could further be blamed for planting the tree that put down a big root right where I wanted to put the hydrangea. S/he had planted to destined-to-be-huge maples in a tiny backyard = more blame.
I know the root doesn't look like much ↑↑, but when one has to hack with a small hatchet with arthritic hands and dirt falling back into the hole ... well who's to blame for that? I could blame my hands on my mother, but she could blame them on her father, and I suppose that blame game could go a long way back. Perhaps, I should just blame Adam, the operative syllable being dam in this case.
And who is to blame for the fact that I couldn't sleep past 4:30 AM and didn't feel like gardening at all but knew it had to be done. Do I blame myself, my disinterested doctor, or the universe? Let's just blame the universe, shall we?
Meanwhile ... where do I go to lay blame about the maple tree that won't quit? ↓↓ We had it cut down almost two years ago, and it insists on sending up new branches. Sigh, come autumn, I'll cut the branches one more time once the leaves fall.
And I'd like heap some blame on the silly daylilies in passing. I took out all eight plants earlier this year because I don't like the generic orange daylilies. Now, there are more than a dozen sprouting up. Go figure. Anybody want some stupid orange daylilies? They'll grow. Promise. But don't blame me if they don't.
