Beauty is definitely in the eye (and the mood) of the beholder. Yesterday my garden was looking rather nice - an honest, sprawling, mid-season garden. I smiled indulgently at the flopping Shasta daisies, the yellow dandelion flowers, the rose and dahlia dead-heads. Sweet things! Symbols of the ever-changing cycle of nature.
Floppy Shasta Daisies
This morning taking the dogs for a walk with my camera - not so. My garden is not looking rather nice. I am ashamed of it. Ashamed of me, for not working harder in it. For putting off digging, raking, and other assorted tasks. For thinking it's OK to collect just one barrowful of trimmings, when at least ten are needed. For allowing myself to be lazy. For flitting around poking at things, rather than getting down on my hands and knees and weeding properly.
Half a load
Right. Today I fix this, yes? Without further ado. I dress appropriately and I go outside, put my head down, and work.
Four hours later...
Done. Hoses on in the Allotment Garden. Six barrowloads collected and dumped. A Phormium and a sad patch of daylilies dug out of the Stables Garden and potted up. Green Astelias planted in their place, much better.
Ended up in the Hump Garden, where the soil is so super-fertile that plants (like the ornamental Anemanthele grasses) are huge. Actually everything is huge - except the lazybones tomato plants. Huge weeds, too. Oh well.
Now as a reward I'm snacking on fruit while slurping a gorgeous hot coffee. Little things.
Thursday 18th February
Today I returned to the Hump Garden to weed. I had to dig out a clump of variegated Miscanthus grass which had creeping grass roots running through it. Soaked it in water, pulled it into seven or eight pieces, extremely difficult to get the nasty grass out. It's couch (cooch) grass - or twitch? One of the most delicate gardening operations I've tackled in a while.
Cercis and Anemanthele Grass
The newer Miscanthus roots were exactly the same colour and size as the grass, but they tended to curl up towards the top (and the light) whereas the nasty roots just bored on through. The pieces, hopefully twitch-free, are trimmed and confined to a large pot for next season. Hopefully I have dug up most of the escaped grass roots and runners.
And where did the nasty grass appear from? Naturally I rudely blamed my friend down the road who gave me several cheery clumps of nearby summer Phloxes. It must have come in from her garden, yes? Then I remembered - it was original planted in my own garden, in an area prone to the grass menace. Oops.
And now - relaxation time, the evening meal, a drink of cool water, clean hair, clean socks... Clean socks! Yeay! Life is wonderful when one has worked hard in the garden and is wearing clean socks.