Profile of need...
Heard one of those ear-catching phrases on the news this morning - an economist talking (optimistically post-Covid) about the country's 'Profile of Need'. Aha! What about my garden's 'Profile of Need'?
Pond Cottage in the Fallen Leaves
This, of course, is ever changing : week by week, day by day. A cash injection isn't necessarily the answer. Autumn garden maintenance is what's needed to flatten this curve. Plus a super-charged gardener with energy, excellent management skills, boundless creativity, and the ability to adapt. Oops.
Autumn brings its own challenges. I have to have an autumn bonfire to clean up the fence-lines and the hedges, but I dislike this activity very much. Then there's the question of balance - how to enjoy the sights and sounds of the garden without that ever present need for maintenance spoiling things. How to enjoy scuffing through piles of fallen leaves without immediately thinking about bagging them up or raking them onto the garden.
It's Barking Friday, when I play Bach on the piano. It used to be with my flute playing friend - alas, for the last seven weeks, I have been barking alone. Dogs - feel free to join in, as the mood takes you.
Exploits of an ancient ballet fairy...
A few mornings ago I was doing my Zoom ballet class. Mid-adage a food delivery arrived at the door. The dogs sang. Ancient ballet fairy waved thank you. The dogs kept on singing. Non-Gardening Partner appeared to see what the commotion was - ancient ballet fairy shoo-ed him away. The dogs kept on singing through the port de bras, couldn't hear the beautiful tinkling piano music. Lucky for the instructor I had muted myself. All in all a very wobbly and unsatisfactory ballet session.
Right. Off to do some of that which well fits my garden's Profile of Need. This week's one, that is. Guess what? It's autumn garden maintenance.
I'm clearing the middle of the Wattle Woods, raking, trimming the species Phormiums, and scooping mess out of the little stone-edged stream (not flowing at the moment). This, surely my messiest garden, lies underneath towering Eucalyptus trees. The long strips of fallen gum bark are particularly difficult to handle. They have to be folded over several times and carried out by hand. Consequently I have plodded over to the bonfire rather a lot of times.
Messy Grasses under the Gum Trees
I also pulled out some unhappy miniature Agapanthus clumps which I've potted up. There's no place for these in the middle of the gum trees - they're too tiny, and get totally covered with leaves and debris.