Garden

I am on the taxi rank, feeling gloomy in the rain.

I was hoping that something uplifting and exciting might happen in order that I could have something lovely and inspiring to write about, and have put off starting this, just in case.

It didn’t, though, so I shall have to tell you about quietly tedious things instead.

I got cross with Mark this morning. This was not his fault really. I woke up early from some anxious school-related dreams, and after yawning and fidgeting for what seemed like hours, I got up.

I left him to sleep for ages, and then when eventually he did wake up, he did not want to have coffee and organise the day. He faffed about on his computer instead.

I wanted coffee by then, and was cross with him.

It was not a good start to the day.

After that it was raining, which meant that we couldn’t do anything much to the garden. The next thing that has got to happen is guttering reconstruction, and Mark thought that he would prefer not to be sliding about on an unrelated ladder collection, in a hurry because of work, in the pouring rain. 

I was sorry about the rain as well, because I have bought some new plants, and I had been hoping to be able to install them in their forever-homes in the newly redesigned garden.

When we started on our Garden Rebeautification project a few weeks ago I had been uncomfortably surprised to discover how very few of the in situ garden plants I actually liked or wanted. 

It is a very small garden.

I have not paid it much attention over the last couple of years, and somehow it seems to have filled itself up with a handful of enormous plants that have squished everything else out of existence. One or two desperate survivors have hung in in corners, hoping to scratch out an inconspicuous little life for themselves, but on the whole the garden has become entirely overwhelmed by a small Mafia of determined hooligans. 

Chief amongst the culprits have been the Chinese lanterns, along with the mint, the poppies, the tansy and the fennel. The grape vine has become an omnivorous monster, only stopping short of singing: “feed me, Eugene,” and the bay tree is towering over everybody’s heads.

I have dug them out.

The grape vine and the bay tree have been left where they are, obviously, since they are going to be a part of the new garden. Also it would be utter folly to dig out a grape vine which was weighted almost to the ground with fruit. I shall be starting to harvest it over the next few days, and will reorganise it afterwards. The crows have started to harvest it already, despite my addition of wind chimes to the washing line,  and occasionally throwing things at them out of the windows. 

In order not to have empty beds, because this is not as nice in the garden as it is in the house, I have ordered some new plants on line. Mostly these are bulbs, but there are a handful of climbing plants and shrubs amongst them, and I am secretly quite excited about these.

There is a lilac and an acer and some jasmine. They have arrived in the post this week and are sitting on top of the new beds, recovering from their ordeal.

I keep looking at them and trying to decide what to do with them all.

I have filled some pots with wormy compost, warm and ready for new plants. I had thought that perhaps today would be the day for arranging them all, but it rained too much even to consider it.

The garden is a slippery swamp, and in any case it is Saturday, and we have had to come to work.

It is something thrilling to look forward to next week.

There. This might have been a dull diary entry, but you know now that there is a positive roller coaster of excitement in front of you.

I am sure you are practically holding your breath.

Have a memory of the garden.