May 1, 2018

Had not appreciated the full difference cutting that pine would make. Except for up against the eastern side of the house (where the bloodroots and bluebells lie safe) there’s no spot totally free from the sun. The tool shed, ever in the shade before, spends its evening in a blast of light, as does the pond. The shady groves where I hoped to grow ginseng are golden with evening light. This is mostly good, but it means that the delicate things I planted thinking they were going to spend their lives in the cool and shadow must find some way forward. Today a goldy Oriental cypress went into the ground. I quipped, “In two hours I’ll just feel like planting another,” and the clerk did me the courtesy of laughing.  The silver maple at the eastern edge is dead, but I’m going to try to leave it to the woodpeckers until it falls apart.  Orange and black in the depth of the pool.