A bit silly...

Things have gone a bit silly in my life. December is the silly singing month (Christmas Carols, Handel's Messiah, Beethoven's Mass in C Major). I've also had a week of ballet costume sewing. This morning, however, things look promising, gardenwise.

 In the back row, concentrating...
Singing in The Messiah

The word promising leads me to make some promises. Non-Gardening Partner 'found' my expensive hand digger yesterday (while mowing the lawns, oops), so I can finally plant out the last of the flowering annuals, a cherry tomato, and the last lettuce seedlings. And I promise to do this first thing.

The Front Lawn is Mown


So I finally have violas, marigolds, and lettuces in pots. And I've been weeding the middle of the rose garden in the Hump. Self-seeding Campion has gone mad in here and is smothering other plants. I'm pulling great chunks of it out - there's enough left to have those lovely pink flowers blooming next spring. Uncovered dear Tiger the cat's grave, said hello, apologised to her for the naughty Cleavers weeds.

 One of my least favourite once-flowering roses.
Wedding Day Rose

Please no more sewing...

It's a joy to finally be properly back in my garden, and not in my sewing room. Let me remind myself never again to offer to cut and sew costumes for forty mature ladies who are dancing in a ballet recital. They are just like ballet five year-olds.


Actually it's a hoot. Ladies keep coming and going on and off my list, and there are several unknown, unseen bodies with the ambiguous measurement of 'medium'. I've tried delegation, but one of my underling sewers trimmed her costumes down to impossibly small sizes, so none of them fit. Lots of fun, though - and apparently the first time the New Zealand Silver Swans have ever been seen on stage.


Lots of roses need dead-heading - my goodness, that was quick! Most once-flowering roses (like Wedding Day) are almost finished, while the various Icebergs (whites, pinks, and burgundy) are in mid-bloom. They usually last nearly until Christmas Day.

Just one tiny oops - I've lost my hand digger in the middle of the garden somewhere, and its bright orange handle isn't immediately obvious. Blast! Am now enjoying a refreshing cup of tea and a much deserved piece of Christmas cake, before I go back out there for a second session.


I am apres-gardening in white floaty cotton top and blue denim flowery jeans. I am clean. I am tired. I am very proud of my hard working day. I've removed four of the heaviest wheel-barrowfuls of weeds ever known to a hard-working gardening woman. I didn't lose my secateurs. I found my orange hand digger.

 Mainly Lychnis.
Flowers in the Hump garden

Now hopefully the big irrigation will run tonight and soak all the plants I've uncovered. We are going to the local pub for a meal. Then we will watch the rest of Harry Potter Episode 1 - a little light TV watching, lots of fun.

And tomorrow?

And tomorrow - more of the same. Yeay for being a gardener again! My balance is back. Not my ballet balance, though - still a bit wobbly doing the arabesque.