Barking mad?
Where's that Plane?
Rusty the dog and I are gardening along the water race. Well, one of us is in the water, cursing quietly. Those Carex roots are tough! The other is three-leggedly clearing planes out of Moosey airspace over-head. You can probably guess who is doing what. Sometimes I think we are both barking mad...
Friday 23rd May
The one with the cold feet (me) is inside temporarily to warm up both limbs and spirits, and to reflect on the following process. A garden task seems impossibly difficult. So all I can do is try to do my best. And keep on trying. And then - voila! The shovel manages to tip the big Carex grass over, enough to dislodge it. Wow. Amazing. Logical, too, for these brutes are shallow rooted.
The other one (him) is slumped on the kitchen floor in front of the pantry. Something to do with a bag of dog biscuits...
Right. Lunch is over. I've pretty much finished the Dog-Path Garden edges. Now I'll return to start clearing the grasses from the edge of Middle Garden. Aargh! Another pair of thermal socks will be getting cold and wet.
Gunnera Stem Spikes
Dodge the Gunnera
This is deep, wet-knickers water, and I'll need all my wits about me. I'll have to dodge the scratchy, nasty Gunnera, and pull out the Carex seedlings which have planted themselves amongst its roots.
Again, I'll do my best. Easy! Later, as a reward, I'll have a hot shower, a cup of tea, put on dry warm clothes, and do some TV couch-cycling in Italy (the Giro). I've never couch-cycled in Italy before...
Much, Much Later...
My dog and I have been so good. I spent another two hours in the deeper water. I was going really well until I 'misplaced' my secateurs. Blast - I should have been trimming dead leaves off the waterside Phormiums. Then I started feeling really water-logged, and my feet were getting too cold. Meanwhile my trusty side-kick dog had chased off a helicopter and a swarm of shrieking plover birds. Good work, Rusty.
Because of the state of the feet I didn't stop to clean up. Anyway, the wind was roaring around making things even more unpleasant. So tomorrow I will clean up my mess and weed out more grass seedlings.
The Water Race Edges are Being Cleared
This time I will luckily be standing and/or kneeling on dry land in Middle Garden. And I will never, never, ever let these grasses colonise the water's edge garden again. Never, never, ever! If this statement is disregarded I will apply a self-penalty of no new roses for a whole year.
Things I've Noticed...
I notice that the new shrubs (two variegated Pieris and a Psoraea) are happy, happy, happy. And a couple of new seedling green Cordylines are growing alongside. These are OK to leave in.
Waterside Golden Rose
Some delightful yellow roses are still flowering along the back-lawn by the water race. Pretty things! And there's a self-sown Sorbus tree whose leaves are late to colour red.
Saturday 24th May
What a day! A dogless one, because Non-Gardening Partner has been home, and he is sooooooooo much more interesting than I am. I've removed all the Carexes from the water race. Luckily for me the water flow was off, so only my feet got wet. The area around the willow stump is now clear, the Stumpy (AKA Willow Tree) Garden rhododendrons are Carex-free, and the waterside garden by Rooster Bridge is cleaned up too. I've got another large chunk of Gunnera for my pond.
Red Sorbus Leaf
I actually feel like a proper, terribly serious gardener. It's the first time in many years I've done so much sensible clearing up. My bad habit of naively welcoming self-seeders - so pretty, so green - and totally forgetting the consequences is a thing of the past. I've even transplanted these sweet little Carex grasses all around, planting them in different gardens. Never again. Pots only, now, if I ever feel a distribution urge.
Night-time Cottage
Responsible Righteousness?
Apologies if this journal page reeks of responsible righteousness and makes me sound boring and normal. Don't worry - later tonight I'll be tucked into bed in my garden cottage, with the sparkly fairy-lights going, reading Enid Blyton's The Ragamuffin Mystery.
But shame on her - she has a really poor attitude to the Welsh people. Oops. Must remember to plant my leek seedlings.