Faye’s Way or the Highway

Blog readers may remember a post I wrote in April about my troubles keeping the plywood Easter eggs hanging from the town gazebo. It all worked out, but I was glad when Easter was over and I could take those darn eggs down.

I started weeding and edging around the gazebo and the monument “as soon as the ground could be worked.” I thought I started early enough. I even took my pruning shears and trimmed a lot of the yellow-tipped grass around the Memorial Garden. Alas, my edging technique left something to be desired once again. I got a call from Faye, asking me if I had edged the gardens yet.


Even though Faye showed me how to create a neat garden edge last year, I’m the kind of learner who needs to see something two or three times to really understand. Faye volunteered to offer a second session of “Edging for Dummies.”

We met at the gazebo and Faye brought her edger AND a garden fork. The garden fork. I don’t remember this implement being used last year. That must be what was missing in my technique. Then Faye looked closely at the Memorial Garden and said “Who cut down all the purple muscari?”

Oh boy. Not only was I a failure at edging, but I’d lopped off some of the flowers with my pruning shears.

I am usually honest to a fault, accepting responsibility for my mistakes. This time, I didn’t say anything except “I don’t know.” One of two things might happen. The flowers would grow and Faye might forget about it, or the public works department would hear from Faye. It wouldn’t be the first time Faye and the public works had agreed to disagree.

My edging lesson went well and we finished around the Memorial Garden. I promised I’d come back and finish the work around the gazebo later in the week.

Time got away from me and I got an e-mail from the woman currently in charge of the town gardens. She mentioned that there were quite a few weeds around the gazebo. Did I need any help edging?

I hung my head in shame. No, no, I just need to get over there and do it.

Bleeping edging.

I borrowed a garden fork from Uncle Bob; “what do you need that for?” he quizzed. He was sitting on the porch with a friend who had stopped by. I explained the edging problems and he said there was an edger in the barn, “it’s shaped like a half-moon.”

“No, that’s not how Faye told me to do it,” and I tried to explain how she had taught me to do the edging. Uncle Bob’s friend laughed and practically in unison, they said “it’s Faye’s way or the highway.”

Early Sunday morning, I was greeted by some good news. The purple muscari made it.

Purple MuscariThank goodness.

I was feeling sorry for myself, though, huffing and puffing around the gardens. Who was responsible for my predicament? Who could I blame? The President? The Governor? The Pope?

No, there was no one to blame but myself. One other thing I remember Faye saying during my second tutorial was that she used to “edge all the time.” I guess I’d better add “edging” to my weekly list of things to do.

For some really good edging instructions, read this.

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2 Responses to Faye’s Way or the Highway

  1. Slipper sistah says:

    Appreciate your blog this morning, Thanks for that and the link to the tips about edging too! It’s a joy to see how creative people can be and the neat ways they find to share that with others.

    To your “Who cut down all the purple muscari?” question, I’ll add another, are the blue flowers in your photo purple muscari? Either my screen color is off or I’m color blind and I don’t question you because I think you’re wrong, it’s because the flowers I see are blue and I’m wondering are these the flowers you were referring to? These type flowers grow willy nilly on the back lawn, I wondered what they were.

    The flower gardens around my parents’ properties were all started by the plant-loving sisters and my mother back many, many moons ago. After Mother passed away, friends helped me plant some donated flowers (thank you, Helen & Julie-Ann for the flowers and Donna L. for the help planting them) into the gardens. Almost all were perenials. Something I’ve discovered over the years, is that most weeds are perenials too.

    “We’re back” would be their most used words if they could speak English. I was left tending to the gardens after green thumb sis moved to Michigan & we discovered something else, each time she was visiting during growing seasons these questions would arise “hey where did the delphiniums or some other plant go to?

    Since 1989, many of her favorites have gone on the “missing in action” list and there’s a pretty healthy crop of weeds growing in those beds now. Moral of the story; make a younger sister, daughter, brother, son or friend or neighbor an apprentice, train them up in the way they should weed, edge and what not because none of us will live forever, we are all just passing through.

    Over fifty years ago, an elderly woman tended her flower garden, spring, summer and fall. She lived across the street about two house down. That’s where sis in Michigan apprenticed and every where she goes, that place is more beautiful for it.

    I was encourgaged by your blog this morning, thank you for writing it and sharing it with us.

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