Yippee! The sun is back, and my head-cold, like the weather, is much less drippy. No excuses now - better get on with my general garden clean-up. Soon it will be time to prune my three hundred plus roses. Ouch - scary thought!
Favourite Pink Roses in My Garden
Sunday 8th July
It's early morning and I'm listening to New Zealand playing cricket in the West Indies. Aargh! I'm hearing wickets falling (us) and buzzing bubuzelas (the crowd). These are not the most pleasant sounds to start the day with. This coffee is good, though!
Red Phormium in Pot
Plans for Phormiums
My thinking gardener's morning started earlier, with a cup of tea in the cottage. Looking out across the pond I made a decision. The species Phormium behind the pond, huge and snow-flattened, will be cut down, sliced up, and dug out (what a fate). I don't need it to grow just there. I'd rather look out on finer foliage, and maybe some of my new roses...
So as soon as the temperature warms up enough for digital dexterity - or New Zealand gets too hopelessly behind in the cricket run chase (whichever comes first) - I'm off outside.
Much, Much Later...
A huge thank you to my garden for keeping me so busy all day. The Phormium is out, as is a large coarse green Carex, I've realigned the path (scooping up shovelfuls of daffodils and plonking them on the other side of the path). I've spread horse manure over the new garden area, and shifted a rose into the open.
- A Few of My Gnomes :
- I now have so many garden gnomes I am embarrassed to count them all. Oh dear. Collections always end up like this, don't they!
And as I worked the garden gnomes just went about their gnomish business on the water's edge, taking no notice of me. I am the invisible gardener!
I notice that two Ceanothuses by the path have a number of dead branches - these tree-shrubs always do this to me. And their blue flowers are pretty, but they lack impact. I suspect my climate isn't quite right for Ceanothus to thrive.
Back to my Bonfire
Cotoneaster branches high up a tree near the laundry had cracked and split, so I sawed them down. And dragging the pieces past my disgracefully weedy vegetable garden to the bonfire wasn't such a positive move. I had to half-shut my eyes and squint.
Later Afternoon Winter Bonfire
Now the sun's just dropping behind the trees, and just as soon as I've stopped writing (and eating afternoon tea) I'm going back outside to burn. To aid combustion I've wheeled over five barrowfuls of gum bark and leaves from behind the pond.
Today has been just brilliant. Now I'm off to enjoy some TV couch-cycling in France, to relax and ogle at the green fields of summer and the beautiful light green trees. And not a Phormium in sight...
Monday 9th July
OK. What to do first? I only have the afternoon - my morning has been used up on compulsory socialisation commitments (and buying more recycled paint for the gnomes). Somewhere in the sun, I think, and maybe with the camera. Something to do with either pots or chopping down Phormiums? Aargh! That's the story of last week's garden life... Let's see if I can come up with something that's a bit different.
I didn't. In fact, I dug up two more Phormiums, cut them into pieces, and planted half into two of my new pots. The other halves were planted by the fence-line in the Wattle Woods, where I've started clearing an overgrown path. Something new - I did not finish the day with a bonfire. Phew! I'd hate to become repetitive...
Tuesday 10th July
Ha! I've had a bona fide day off from the garden, walking on the peninsula with my oldest friend (in the friend-sense). We love walking (AKA hiking AKA tramping) together, and keep making outrageous plans to do all the long distance 'footpaths' in Britain. Then the years sneakily cruise by, and our travel insurance premiums go up a tiny bit more...
- 'One may be riding towards the back in the peleton of life. But abandon le Tour? Never!'
- -Moosey Words of Wisdom.
And we also wonder about going walking together in France. Ah, France... So many exciting future non-gardening plans to fit in. Not a problem! One may be riding towards the back of the peleton of life, to use a Tour de France cycling metaphor. But abandon le Tour? Never!
Kaituna Saddle - There and Back
I do wonder about flying a million miles to summer-walk Englands's Coast to Coast path and then trudging in driving rain, fog, floods, and more fog for three weeks - this has just happened to some New Zealand walking friends of mine. To go all that way to see another country's fog. Seen one fog seen them all? Whereas we've enjoyed a brilliant (if easy) winter's day out - nippy valley frosts, followed by brilliant sunshine higher up. And beautiful blue sky...