5/25: Things Get Excessive

I went a little Xanadu on the garden today.

No, I didn't pine after my childhood sled on my deathbed (eighty year old spoiler alert?). Nor did I compose eleven minutes of ascendant rock glory. No, I refer to the Xanadu of lore, that arboreal paradise of the Khans, said to embody perfection beyond time.

I mean, what I actually did was build a trellis. But it's a lot of fun to yell "XANADU!" while you do it. The neighbors disagree, but this isn't a blog about my neighbors.

Anyway: all none of my faithful readers may recall this little beauty, living at the foot of my garden:

What's harder to make out, buried amidst the verdant chaos, is that the plant as a whole is really just a bundle of vines, given shape by a now-subsumed wooden trellis. This plant, the mandavilla, will travel along lattices or wires, shooting off lovely red flowers as it goes. And while I'm sure it could thrive just fine spilling out into the lower sixth of the garden, why pass up the excuse for a woodworking project?

The idea was for an arch, relatively freestanding, tapered in emulation of a Shinto gate, to stand over the plant. I'd then track down some wire and string it in a more or less haphazard web in the air in between, and over the season (if I don't kill the damn thing) the mandavilla would wind its way up to the top, resulting in a beautiful overgrowth along the entire structure.

I had most of the wood on hand, but for the sake of aesthetic I snagged a pair of eight foot studs and kept their length intact, opting to sink 1-2 feet into the ground to either side of the plant. Determining the width of the arch was easy; I had a piece of 2x8 that I cut into half, coming to a hair over 3'. I made the first cut at random and copied the angle on the other side, and the other half of the cut board so I had two of these:

Then I took the longest length of the resultant trapezoid and cut one more board to match it for a lintel overtop. A coat of Jacobean stain and a few drywall screws later and we had ourselves an arch:

And then I raised it like a one-man Amish village:

(Also, I totally forgot that, I don't know, supports were a thing. So, hoping it wouldn't topple over and rip the mandavilla from the ground like an earthen catapult, I ran back in and cut the two posts seen bolting it in at the base.)

I debated the filament for a little while. I have plenty of 5-strang paracord on hand, which I could gut for the filler and do the job. But it's relatively fragile, an ugly white, and a waste of paracord besides. Twine, too, seemed flimsy; although I wouldn't mind the earthy aesthetic I'm not terribly convinced that it would outlast the plant.

Then I remembered a few off-cast pieces of chicken wire that have been hanging around the grill since last year, and I realized one of those truths that's only obvious when you aren't thinking too hard about it: chicken wire fencing is just made of wire! (to the best of my knowledge, there are no chickens involved in the process. That comes after.)

I sat down with a lap full of this stuff:

And for twenty minutes as I chafed my thumbs and strained my eyes, I experienced a singular transmutation into another reality: the Sam of another universe, who, having come into hard times as a private prison warden, picks up a side hustle slinging artisan, hand-crafted barbed wire on Etsy. But the results were worth it: several feet of perfectly usable metal wire, almost invisible in dynamic light, easily stapled in and durable enough to outlast the season at least.

Judas Priest meets Charlotte's Web.

Now we wait. There were an encouraging amount of vines already streaming off of the main bulk, like cellulose fireworks frozen in summer time, and I gently routed them up the strands and toward the sky. With any luck, August will see seven feet of streaming red flowers one or two curious hummingbirds, and one happy amateur gardener.

If not, I can always turn it into a pullup bar. Though I'll probably add a few more supports for that one.

Listening to: Dead Boy's Poem-Nightwish
Reading: House of Chains by Steven Erikson
Drinking: Jovial (dubbel) by Troegs