Drippy and drizzly...
Stone Path Past Daphne
It's drippy and drizzly - time for some happy indoor lockdown reflection. I am gardening-happy. I feel safe in my country, and connected to my friends and family. And it's been raining on my newly planted plants. Great timing, lovely clouds, thank you.
Non-Gardening Partner is not so keen on the timing. He has been working all week from home, and (oddly) keeps refusing to do chain-sawing in his lunchtimes. 'Working' is a bit of a loose word - found him asleep on the dog couch yesterday, laptop delicately angled on his tummy, screen covered with faces in squares. Aha! An engineers' Zoom meeting. Luckily he hadn't turned his camera on.
Now it's the weekend, it's raining, and he's suddenly keen to clear up the last of the hedge trimmings. No point - bonfires not allowed. Apparently it is too drizzly to do any chain-sawing. Fair enough?
But I am going to go out in the drizzle today, regardless of how wet or muddy I get. I have more grasses to dig out, more roses to prune, gardens to weed, mess to rake up. New daffodils, new Prunus blossom, the first little blue Muscari, the yellow Forsythia just starting. The Daphne is flowering. Don't want to miss anything.
Miniature Trumpet Daffodils
Worked for over two hours in the patio garden, scooping out fistfuls of wet leaves, digging out old Anemantheles (hard work, this), and pruning roses with the edging shears. Was interested to see how dry the soil was underneath the big grasses - no wonder the climbing Masquerade and Uetersen roses have been sulking. Dug out some ferns, too - not wanted in this wee garden. Also sorted out the strawberries, pulling rogue Campion plants out of their pots. They need new potting mix, which will have to wait until the middle of next week when contactless pick-ups of such things can be arranged.
Meanwhile NGP did housework and mopped the floors (!). Anything to get out of chain-sawing, I reckon. So I have sent him off to the local store to buy cat food, bread, and chocolate (my reward for drizzle gardening).
Sunday 29th August
Another drippy, drizzly day. I am going gardening soon, I promise. Trouble is that if I run out of puff and come back inside, then I have to remove muddy clothing, shower, and get re-dressed, so to speak. And for some odd (lazy?) reason I then don't feel like going back outside again. Reality : I could do this seven times (the number of pairs of gardening jeans I can easily dig out). Thought : too much self analysis? One tends to do this in a lockdown...
At the risk of smelling offensive (have, alas, been working in a popular dog-toileting area) I am not changing my clothes. I am inside (boots left outside the back door) for a late lunch, a quick cup of tea, and a small boasting list of achievements, as follows :
Another Garden Weeded
Weeded : the side house border and the opposite driveway border.
Pruned : a bright pink Flower Capet rose, Iceberg roses on the fence.
Spotted : another Camellia, white, flowering behind the Stables.
Picked : an assortment of daffodils for the house.
Rescued : clumps of perennial low-growing Salvia, Lychnis plants, a Calamagrostis grass, unhappily planted right in the middle of a fast and furious dog super-short-cut.
Oh dear. Popped out half an hour later with camera to capture the brilliant white Camellia, before continuing my garden work. Drizzle, drizzle went the drizzle. Feet and knees were wet and cold. Made an executive decision to get warm in the shower, put on a pair of dry socks (as well as other items of clothing), and stay inside.