A tendency to panic...
The issue pops up every year, when my garden wakes up to spring. I mustn't miss anything! Help! I need a strategy so I can appreciate every single little change, gush at every single little new flower, and so on. I have a tendency to panic.
Unfortunately in spring I am often head-down bottom-up, involved in some spectacular new project which takes five or six hours of each gardening day. In the tired time that's left over I daren't wander around the garden too much, lest I spy a host of weeds, or a rose which missed the pruning, and start feeling hopeless.
Afternoon Sun on the Driveway Lawn
I've guess the answer is pretty simple. I need more hours of garden-energy each day. How can this be achieved? By eating sumptuous morning and afternoon teas and then tricking myself the day is starting afresh? I will probably just get over-caloried...
Percy on the Path
Wednesday 17th September
Today I've been trialling a down-to-earth system, inspired by elite athletes who train each day. As a warm-up I did a light weeding session by the cottage - just an hour or so, watched at a distance by cautious cat Percy. Then some digital exercises : I wandered over to the glasshouse with my weedy wheelbarrow and stopped for half an hour to do some cuttings and prick out the Candytuft seedlings. This is great for one's fine motor skills.
Then a strong-arms weights session. Trundling on to dump the weeds a million miles away, on the far side of the garden, I barrowed loads of mulch along the boundary.
I've worked out how to deal with the weeds and the messy holes in the Welcome Garden. I slice the grassy weeds off with the spade and lay them face-down in the bottom of the holes. Then I get some stony soil to cover them up. For now I'm working my way along the flat part, planting all the remaining potted Pittosporums, and covering the ground with weed-suppressing mulch. I note, just for the record, that newspaper I laid here years ago is still undecomposed (?), and all the weeds are happily growing on top of it. Hmm...
Then something quite different. I remembered a promise made to a couple of the old-fashioned roses, struggling in the back of the Shrubbery - they could look forward to moving to a sunnier spot. Zoom! Dug out in a flash. One is Hebe's Lip, a sweet briar, the other name unknown (possibly Anais Segalas). They've been lovingly planted in the sunny top part of the Welcome Garden, and I've got the hoses on. Hope they like it here. For the record they join Mme Pierre Oger and Canary Bird which I planted last autumn.
For feed-back, feed-forward, and a most satisfying warm-down, I took my camera everywhere I went, photographing many amazing colourful sights. Camellia Nonie Haydon flowering with beautiful fluffy pink flowers, the big cherry looking absolutely gorgeous, red rhododendron Kaponga shining in the sun, and so on. Nothing, be it big or small, escaped my clicky camera-eye. Cross fingers! And I wrote up my journal thoughtfully, without rushing. Yippee!
Thursday 18th September
Today I'm following the same pattern as yesterday. I've already taken photographs of Little Mac the cat's memorial flowering cherry tree. I'm going to do my warm-up weeding down the curved driveway where lots of pretty little shot weeds are busy flowering.
Four Hours Later...
A gentler garden exercise day, but I've still achieved much. I've planted another Pittosporum, wheeled more mulch, weeded as already discussed, and taken more photographs. Blossom time is beautifully pale pink and white, with shades in between.
+5+5I haven't seen Percy today - instead, Big Fluff-Fluff has been the Cat de Jour. He has come perilously close to being 'filled in', in one of the holes I've been working on. He's been submerged in weeds, I've trod on his tail, and had to scoop him many times off my feet. Love you, big cat, but some days you just get too close for comfort. And your beautiful caramel coloured fur gets so grubby and dusty!