Being brutal...

 Am always doing this.
A Hump Path Cleared

The Hump Garden is a mess. It has over-planted itself - definitely not the gardener's fault, hee hee. At least two days of brutal gardening are needed : heavy boots, large shovels and spades, big intentions, brutal decisions.

Thursday 17th February

So far so good, though something was making my nose go very sniffly. I've pulled out huge chunks of Lychnis. I've uncovered two Hebes which are well positioned and can stay. I've trimmed Anemanthele grasses which have been flopping over the paths, and dead-headed roses and dahlias. I've carted away five barrowfuls of stuff.

And wow! The cricket is going really well (New Zealand is playing South Africa). Right. Let my second gardening session commence. Slash, rip, dig, and slice. No mucking about.


My gardening has been strong, and though I've mislaid my good hand digger I've accomplished much. Mainly it's been in the attitude. Nothing half-hearted or dithery about today's gardening. I'm very proud, and a bit achy, but that's not a big problem. Nothing dug out and shifted, but I have my eye on the Red Currant bushes and the miniature roses.

Friday 18th February

Have already worked for three hours, starting early. Brutal decision - to chop down one of the self-seeded Prunus trees. It's spiky, the branches are floppy, and the blossom is unmemorable (can't remember any). I've trimmed the side branches, and will order in the chain-saw for the main trunk. Have carted three barrow loads of mess to the dumping place. Pulled out handfuls of Campion and old Lychnis. Found a sweet little row of miniature Agapanthus down in the depths. Will move them out.

 A glowing apricot pink colour.
Kate Sheppard Roses

Sorry, but it's time for a bit of personal gushing. I am so lucky. I love my garden. I have a beautiful piano on which to play music. I have cats to amuse me and dogs to walk and bike with. I love my reading adventures (have just been on the Shikoku pilgrimage route, 88 temples, with a deeply analytical American man, impressive intellect, behaves like a bit of a goose). I think gardening is a bit of a pilgrimage, as far as healing the soul and spirit are concerned. You can also get sore feet...

 In the Hump Garden.
Dark Red Hollyhock

Right. It's too hot, so I'm going for a swim, and (possibly) some deep garden thinking.

 So beautiful.
Buster the Black Cat

Saturday 19th February

So I have worked really hard for three hours. I've been weeding and organising a path in the Hump Garden, fixing up chunky log edges for it, relocating miniature Agapanthus clumps around its edge. It curves around this year's rather hopeless potato patch, and joins another path lower in the Hump Garden. Don't know why my potatoes were hopeless. None were bigger than a hen's egg.

Right. I'll take my afternoon tea outside and sit on a stump and think. Maybe Speckles the Stray will turn up (saw him lurking in the Hump garden yesterday).

Two hours later...

No sneaky garden cats, though black Buster danced across the lawn to say hello at the end of my gardening session. I've fixed up the path which leads past the Cercis tree. A Hydrangea paniculata is now in the middle of the path and will be shifted. I've dug out a bucket full of rogue potatoes and pulled out heaps of large weeds covered in sneaky little green berries. Just in time! Aargh!