Longing for lavender

We received a wonderfully warm welcome here in Sydney. Up to the high 60s and lovely, caressing winter sun. We’ve begun the semi-annual work of weeding and grooming and planting and pruning, and even added an espalier of lemon trees against the now-grandly renovated shed wall.

But I’m worried about the lavenders back at Dancing Red Ranch. We’d waited almost two years to deal with the blighted bed of Lavandula x intermedia ‘Provence.’ Partly we were too heartbroken, and partly we were too tired.

Ross worked like a demon this spring to replant the dead plants and refresh the gravel mulch. Each new plant was lovingly nested into an extra wide space, and filled with green sand. I pruned back the survivors. We finished just in time to leave for England for three weeks in mid-May. The lavenders were bouncing back, slowly but surely. The older ones were even flowering, however weakly:

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But as we departed the deluge began. Torrential, relentless rain. We were spared the kind of devastation our neighbors in Wimberley on the Blanco suffered, but the lavenders were ailing when we checked on them between England and Sydney, in mid-June. The youngest plants were gray and limp. The older ones were holding their own:

But the rain has continued, so I’m not sure what we’ll discover come August. I can only wish them the very Texas sunshine that they love, and that I love to escape.


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