Sociable, scared, then sick...

 Autumn tones of this lovely Sam McGredy bred rose.
Michelangelo Roses

I have a stimulating non-gardening social life! This morning I am going to 'Musical Play' with the grandbaby, then I'm taking my dog for a long walk. Early tonight I have Jazz Choir. And when I get home I've got America's Next Top Model to watch on TV (sorry to lower the tone).

Wednesday 26th March

I have some pond planting to organise. Some Pulmonarias are moving in by the little pond behind my cottage. It will be a sentimental shift, because they were some of my very first plant purchases. And they’ve survived being in totally the wrong place for years and years.


And something scary has happened - I have been given a large piece of a pink water lily. At the moment it's submerged in a special water lily container in a huge tank of water. I have instructions as to its starting depth, and then to lower it even further down, and so on. My pond isn't immediately suitable, since the sunny edges drop straight down to a depth that is over my head. I need to construct a shelf.

Hmm - what sort of gardener is scared of a water lily? Don't answer that!

 Rolling around on the driveway.
Upside Down Lilli-Puss


And I've been thinking. Lots of retired folk I know get up in the morning, make a cup of tea, feed the cats, and then settle down to read the newspaper. Every page. They also do its crossword, or have a stab at the Sudoko. So the press provides their wake-up and greet-the-day exercises.

First thing the dog and I walk down to the hay barn to feed Lilli-Puss, my eccentric grey cat. I give thanks that I live in the country and I can so easily and happily walk around my paddocks. Back in the house, surrounded by the purry house-cats, I always write. Maybe a list, maybe just some sentences about the garden. Maybe I grump, maybe I gush. I think my own thoughts. My mornings are media-less.

Eek! It's now Friday. Apologies for being absent from the garden - I've picked up a nasty head-cold, and have been sulking and snoozing in bed for two days. I am so cross. Rusty the dog has been lolling outside the cottage, on guard - dear dog. I take him for a walk (more like a shuffle), I read a bit, and then I feel rotten, have a shower, and go back to bed. Such a waste of good gardening days.

 Fluff-Fluff and Rusty.
Cat and Dog in the Driveway

All I've done in these last two days is water the new plantings in the Welcome Garden and the Pittosporums along the driveway. And I don't feel like writing much. This is most unusual!

Saturday 29th March

I'm up, a bit better. I've had a cup of coffee (which tastes peculiar), and I'm off to visit Lilli-Puss in the Hay Barn. Too much daytime sleeping and not enough gentle action, I reckon. Alas, a three day hiking trip into the mountains has now been officially postponed. We were to leave tomorrow - first walking up the Hawdon River to the hut, then spending the next day exploring a route up and into wilder, more remote places. Blast! I was so looking forward to it.

 Unsung flower heroes of spring.

Much Later...

I did do some gardening. I carted three wheelbarrowfuls of mess out of the Wattle Woods and burnt it all. I'm scraping out the route of a path through the big grasses near the fence-line. This is garden maintenance of a semi-creative nature, and the scooping activity certainly unblocks the gardening nose. Sniff, sniff, sniff...

Not so Social...

I haven't shifted the Pulmonarias, though I did wander past them and say hello. The scary water lily is still submerged in its plastic tank. And so much for my non-gardening social life. I didn't go on that hiking trip with my friends, I didn't go to the rugby last night, and I didn't go to swimming and morning tea today. I have (responsibly) stayed home to snort and sniff alone.

Oh, by the way, I haven't taken many photographs either. So the images on this journal page may not relate well to the text. Nasty head-colds seem to inhibit to even the vaguest creative urge. A sniffing sound-track, perhaps, for authenticity?