Earlier this week I potted up David's willow tree with the soil taken from Parsley's garden. It now sits neatly by the pond, although I've found the honeysuckle reaching out an arm - an unwanted arm, to twine around it. Maybe they want to fondle the fur-soft catkins! Honestly you turn your back for a minute and something fruity starts happening.
Spring really does make the dramas unfold. You get the greedy weeds chomping up land like corrupt property developers whilst uptown (under the conifer) madame Purple Sensation starts to reveal herself, along with her entourage of tulips. All the while the ice cool daffodils, dressed sharper than Frank Smethwick, nod their heads in agreement: yes, yes, this is going to be a good season.
Later I filled up the trough for the sweet peas, which will sit by the back of the shed, as this gets a lot of daylight. I then stuffed a rickety old barrel full of debris (wood etc) and then put a deep layer of soil on top, hopefully this will either house the French marigold pinwheels or the teddy bear sunflowers. An alternative is a chimney, which again I filled with old wood and put a layer of soil down - should be a nice little spot for my malva zebrina.