Ian, aka Robert Rojack, one of my best mates from Manchester was visiting me this weekend. As he was due to come down in the evening I had time to plant my daffodil bulbs that I'd acquired. Of course I ended doing a lot more. It was a beautiful day on Friday. The garden, although nascent when it comes to flowers, was teeming with energy and light. Our
very own wasp central was alive with bees and wasps. I just stood there for a while watching ludicrous numbers of them pollinating, and the odd Red Admiral butterfly alighting and rapidly twitching its wings as if in warning. Had a bit of dubstep by way of Bill Withers playing on my minidisc, so I was walking as if in an underwater mosh pit quite a bit, which probably cemented my place as an English eccentric in my neighbours minds. That, or an idiot.
Started by clearing away some of the ivy roots that remained round the first apple tree, and set to with my trowel, digging holes three times the height of each bulb. It doesn't translate well in this pic but I assure you I took time to do it properly. I think. Haha! I do get really paranoid that I'm doing it wrong. As the result won't be evident for many months to come all I can do is wait...The same principle applied to the apple tree at the bottom of the garden, with somewhere in the region of 50 bulbs planted in total. I even buried some at the front of the house, in a really shady patch behind the wall. I have categorically no idea whether they will grow or not. Either way it will be interesting.
Transplanting a fern (again no idea which family it belongs to or it's proper name) to the bottom of garden neatly offset the two baby hostas I'd picked up at Gardener's Weekend (now replete with an anti slug bed of broken egg shells kindly supplied by Parsley). The lady's mantle was planted near the geraniums and fuschia cuttings that Ma Wakefield brought over a few months ago. Even then the ties to this garden and indeed my future gardening endeavours on a whole were tightening, as I couldn't sleep wondering whether they were going to take to the soil or die a premature death. Jake told me not long ago there's nothing worse than doing everything as you should, only to see that something fail. That applies to so much more than gardening don't you think?
The day was still warm and buzzing by the time I'd tidied up. Just when I thought it was time to tie it all up, Sam our wicked neighbour lent me his hover mower. I'd been meaning to ask but was trepid. So I got an extra hours work out of that which made the overall tally about five and a half hours graft. As Parsley was ribbing me about my attempts at starting work earlier, and doing more, I was fairly pleased at what I'd achieved.
There are bigger jobs coming! Parsley and I have discussed the fine points over earl grey and the occasional scream of G UNIT! Soon you can expect to hear tales of turfing, canopies, Tim Burton (all will be explained), Smethwick, Winks & c. More allotment work on Tuesday potentially. Stay tuned.
A tired and jubilant Oregano signing out - X
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