My garden is happy, because it is raining. My garden much prefers nature's style of watering to my random buckets and watering cans. This rain is sure and steady, and windless. And it's forecast to last for a wee while. It's not so cold that the dogs and I could be put off from going outside. Correction. The dogs are never put off by rain. Put down that silly umbrella, concentrate, and throw our frisbees again. Please?
My garden is also very proud of itself. We have house visitors, one of which has been busy peering and poking gently into things with her impressively heavy, long-lensed camera. Taking raw pictures! Wow! Now my garden will expect me to upgrade, focus properly, do my own settings, and so on. Hee hee...
Yesterday my photographic visitor swapped her camera for nippers and helped me start to clean up the Gunnera. We both swished our way along the water race from Middle Bridge, cutting all huge leaves and stems in our way, and chopping any roots which had grown more a third of the way across the water. Left to its own devices a happy Gunnera would completely block and dam my water race in no time. It's a monster perennial with a generous, big heart - just one year's growth is amazing to see. Both the stems and the leaves are 'abrasive' to work with. Ouch! Ouch again!
Wet Aotearoa Rose
I've also started trimming the Shasta daisies along the house side of the water race. They've pretty much finished flowering, and I notice that (I did this a few years ago) they will again need lifting, and weeds (grass and clover) cleaned out from their roots. Blast. But this is me being a good gardener, right? I notice a small detail, thinks ahead, and keep on top of the problem by acting immediately. I should do this ASAP. Forget the 'should'. I WILL do it. Maybe not while it's raining. I love the summer shastas. I love the daisy flower shapes. I love being a good gardener.
Today, however, has become a bit of a disappointment. It is supposed to be the Year of the Dog. This afternoon I have taken the dogs for two long, exciting, chattery, wet walks. Make that 'dog' - only Pebbles could be bothered to accompany me. When Winnie realised there was no frisbee or ball throwing, she slunk back inside. So is it the Year of the Lazy, Single-Minded Dog, Winnie?
Finally, both dogs came outside with me. And we had so much fun. Each dog raced up and down the Leyland hedge on different sides, stopping and starting, teasing. Each would peep through the branches to match what the other was up to. Then accelerate, and try to get 'there' first. Funny dogs!