A fab day today. Nature and all that. We cleared the garden of all dead plants (90% of them to be fair), repaired the lawn so it at least looks presentable, raked the gravel so it no longer resembles a beach with the tide out and bought enough plants and shrubs to make Alan Titchmarsh weep with sheer joy. We went to Alleyns Garden Centre before lunch – me still in jeans and muddy jumper, David in cords and the beginnings of a bad mood and Mac clutching an old seed catalogue and bereft at leaving the flowerbed he’s taken as his own.
We bought topsoil, troughs, pots (terracotta and glazed), hanging baskets (25 quid each! For a bit of earth and a few pansies! But they looked so lovely and sturdy), some recycled chimney pots and plants. More plants than you can shake a stick at. Pansies, rose trees, clematis, honeysuckle, heathers, lavender, more herbs than James Martin has seen in his life and my ultimate favourite. A pussywillow. Bea met us there and queried my sudden need to return to nature. “Darling? Mud other than Dead Sea is so not good for you. Think of your nails!”
David’s bad mood did not get past the initial grumpy stages, especially as I promised that he’d be back home for the football. After we’d lugged everything inside and David and Mac were reclining in laddish mode in front of the England Under 21 game I set to in the garden with Bea and Ian who was showing far more interest in the mud and dirt than Bea was happy with. He was grubby within seconds.
It’s a picture. The flowerbeds are weeded and newly planted. The hanging baskets are swaying gently in the wind outside the utility room and there are three terracotta pots in what is the sunniest area of the patio in the summer – one of lavender, one of rosemary and one of blackcurrant mint. I can almost smell them already. The pussywillow has been planted (and is so far safe from digging doggies) in the centre of the lawn, as directed by Bea and Mac’s flowerbed is awaiting the planting of his heathers and rose bush. Mother Nature – she’s amazing.
We bought topsoil, troughs, pots (terracotta and glazed), hanging baskets (25 quid each! For a bit of earth and a few pansies! But they looked so lovely and sturdy), some recycled chimney pots and plants. More plants than you can shake a stick at. Pansies, rose trees, clematis, honeysuckle, heathers, lavender, more herbs than James Martin has seen in his life and my ultimate favourite. A pussywillow. Bea met us there and queried my sudden need to return to nature. “Darling? Mud other than Dead Sea is so not good for you. Think of your nails!”
David’s bad mood did not get past the initial grumpy stages, especially as I promised that he’d be back home for the football. After we’d lugged everything inside and David and Mac were reclining in laddish mode in front of the England Under 21 game I set to in the garden with Bea and Ian who was showing far more interest in the mud and dirt than Bea was happy with. He was grubby within seconds.
It’s a picture. The flowerbeds are weeded and newly planted. The hanging baskets are swaying gently in the wind outside the utility room and there are three terracotta pots in what is the sunniest area of the patio in the summer – one of lavender, one of rosemary and one of blackcurrant mint. I can almost smell them already. The pussywillow has been planted (and is so far safe from digging doggies) in the centre of the lawn, as directed by Bea and Mac’s flowerbed is awaiting the planting of his heathers and rose bush. Mother Nature – she’s amazing.
1 comment:
Oh the joy of a days work well done! Will you come with me to Fenwick to have your nails done on Thursday night then sweetie? Faye will be back from her holidays, and it really has to be Faye who does my nails...
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