Humpty Dumpty?
Wow. Playing Bach chamber music is so groovy. Four of us are plodding through a Brandenburg concerto - it is so much fun! In the 6-8 movement the pianist (me) sounds like she has gardening gumboots on her fingers. Oops - the piano rollicks along in a robust 'Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall' style. The music should dance and scamper...
Saturday 7th June
This afternoon I did do some gardening. I was in the Wattle Woods. I love being in the Wattle Woods. They are deep, leafy green and - well, woody. The big Wattle trees themselves are in a sorry state, and I wonder if Non-Gardening Partner could be persuaded to help tidy them up. I've tried this before.
Winter in the Wattle Woods
It's a serene and contemplative place to be gardening, too. That is until one wanders dreamily near the next-door fence-line, looks up, and finds oneself face to face with a huge black cattle beast. Nosy cow, I usually say out loud, but in an affectionate tone. For they are nosy, and will follow me up and down the fence. There is little solitude in nosy-cow-company.
Glechoma hederacea :- Creeping Charlie adores growing in the Wattle Woods, and over the paths, and into the surrounding lawns...
I have an issue with Creeping Charlie, a little ground cover which I introduced into the Wattle Woods fifteen years ago. He's been creeping everywhere, ever since, and occasionally I think I've exterminated him. That joke's on me.
Then I decide to take some realistic control. He is only allowed to creep on this side of the path. Ha ha... And then I decide that he looks rather lovely and green, and his leaves are such a pretty shape. This is not sensible. And then the seasons change and I simply forget about him and his wily ways.
Newly Planted Arum Lilies
Sunday 8th June
OK, so creeping Charlie might, just might, have been a wee mistake. But he did start off being sweetly variegated, and he came here (via my pocket) from the local Botanic Gardens, giving him some gardening 'cred'.
Then sometimes I think I am really, really sensible. Like today. I've been gardening for three hours in light rain. I decided to work until the water started running down my fringe and into my eyes. Then I shook my head every ten minutes - and keep on working! Such self-trickery...
I've planted two buckets of Arum lilies. Where? On the edge of the pond, near the other Arum lilies. I think this shows good, sensible planning sense. I've also collected more bags of wet leaves off the pond paddock lawn, and done a spot of muddy weeding.
Then I moved over to the Septic Tank Garden and dug out two barrowfuls of Carex grasses. Oh yes - I keep on finding these. I've released a red Camellia from eternal unhappiness (and leaves slowly turning yellow) in its patio pot. It was bought in honour of Sifter the heirloom tabby cat, and is now planted where the Carexes were in the Septic Tank Garden.
Memorial Camellia for Sifter the Tabby Cat
I'll be able to see it flowering from the house, as well as the two new Camellias planted here last year - Weeping Maiden and CM Wilson. Should they all flower together I'd have that usual pink-white-red Camellia colour scheme which can look so dodgy. But they won't. Weeping Maiden is flowering now, and Sifter's red (Roger Hall, a New Zealand variety) blooms later. So how about showing us your stuff, CM?
Wet Iceberg Rose
So Sensible...
All my muddy clothes have been soaked and are now percolating (?) in the washing machine. Not only am I sensible I am efficient (not to mention dry and clean). 'Sifter's Camellia' has a story attached, so we've been to the nursery to buy a replacement shrub for the pot.
Later...
Oops, oops, oops, and oops again. So I thought I was sensible, did I? It's been drizzling since yesterday evening. Some of the last colours of autumn in my garden are beautiful, so I thought I'd take some photographs. Right. So where was my camera?
Aargh! I found it in the Wattle Woods, sheltering underneath the variegated Pseudopanax, luckily dry enough to still work. But oh boy do I feel foolish. I have come very close to leaving it outside before, but this is the very first time it's slept out in the garden. In the wet of winter! Shhh... Best not to tell anyone...
Tilia in the WInter Driveway