Today, I became a man.
Today, I channeled my inner Schwarzenegger, and tackled a division of Hostas – or rather, Hosta division.
The thought occurred to me that the Hostas in the front bed were getting quite large and needed to be divided. Actually, that thought occurred to me years ago –and Joe has reminded me of this each season. I always fell back on it’s just not the right time of year to divide – but the shelf life of that excuse was long exhausted.
The truth is that I was terrified to divide them. For one thing, they were enormous and I dreaded the thought of hacking into them and making them smaller – although I knew that the task would result in more plants. For another thing, the Hostas were planted under a 40-foot Blue Spruce. I could remember when I planted them how difficult it was to dig through the roots of this monster tree – and I did not look forward to doing that again for the division. I was concerned that it would have to be a violent dig, and that would put too much shock on the Hostas – and I would be left with nothing, just some holes where living Hostas used to be.
Today, though, was make or break time. Armed with a shovel, I sat down in front of my specimens and had a long talk. “Put on your big boy leaves,” I told them. “This is going to hurt me a lot more than it does you.”
4. Then came the wilt. I wondered if this was how a surgeon felt after a difficult procedure on a patient. I kept checking back regularly, watering, and monitoring the progress of the newly planted Hostas.
Now that I had some muscle, I noticed the other perennials staring at me in awe — or was that fear?
I stared back. It was late in the day, and so I assured them in my best Austrian accent, “I’ll be back.”