How does your garden grow?

I missed Nature Notes this week because I can't keep track of time. Obviously. I will set aside the RHUBARB OVERTAKES LOCAL GARDEN photos for this week's Nature Notes. I'm sure you will all be salivating and anticipating the marvel you'll experience.

Let's start off with my li-bud/red-lac tree that a few of you are very well acquainted with:

Well, green on green doesn't do it justice. I will try for another from a different angle. See the tree? See at the bottom all the stems that look like suckers? Is that what they're called? Suckers? What the heck am I talking about? Where did that come from? Someone must have told me that long ago. Anyway, those stems at the bottom are a lilac shrub.

Stop laughing.

Next we have a daisy of some sort that I planted at least two if not three years ago and this is the first year it has ever produced flowers and what do I get? Chernobyl daisy.

More good news and this is wonderful because last year I thought my Columbine had died. But this year it is blooming! On my route through the neighborhood I see purple and white Columbine and I want me some (go K-State!). I relocated this plant last year because although the tag says "sun" the tag apparently is a big fat liar. It is now in the shade of the largest Peony and blooming, so when the tag says "sun" I no longer believe a word of it.

Didn't I mention how I had neglected roses for many years and wondered aloud if I could pamper them and be forgiven? It looks like we may be on the right road. I made a bucket o'weak coffee and destroyed some egg shells in the blender. I gave it all to the roses. I then pruned them of their dead stuff and opened up the middles so they could breathe. Apparently, and you know how I live and die by the google machine, roses enjoy breathing. So I pruned. And look! These two are blooming while the other isn't blooming, but is putting out new little leaves like it has some intentions for later on.

Four flowers on each! Previously the one below only threw up one long-stemmed rose and then did nothing all summer long but simmer in anger and resentment.

Maybe I've been forgiven by the roses, but the jury is out on the li-bud treeshrub.