I blame the rose!

Memo to self. Serious memo to self. Take note! Nota bene! Do not, not, NOT let a Banksia lutea rose grow up into an old plum tree again. Never, ever again! Because - surprise, surprise - the tree has cracked badly from old age, encouraged by the weight of the rose. And down it has all crashed. Down being a relative description - 'downward' would be more accurate.

 The prettiest lemon-yellow.
The Banksia Rose - Before the Crash!

This is not a clean demise. Parts of the rose, intertwined with parts of the tree, are still stuck high up there, hooked around a large rogue Cotoneaster. This weedy tree is awful to handle, with branches that veer off at right angles to the main stems, and prickles. So the trailer is full for the second time (I have to get Non Gardening Partner to stomp all over the pieces to squash them down). I am sick of lopping and chopping. I am sick of carting and burning. This is not what I signed up to be a gardener for.

The Cruellest Pastime...

Yes, gardening can sometimes be the cruellest pastime - or obsession, if you like - and I begin to wish I hadn't signed anything at all. It's particularly cruel when there's only one of me and a large superwoman-sized task which demands every ounce of energy and muscle I possess. Blast that beautiful big rose!

 But still a lot to clean up.
No Banksia Rose Anymore

This morning I had a flash of alternative inspiration. I would 'do something small and finish it'. I told the dogs, we zoomed off to the dog park for a shortened session, zoomed home via the library (Christmas library books, looooovely), and off outside we went with my new gardening tools. Right. The plan was to sort out (i.e. pot, stake, water, place just so) the tomatoes into patio pots. Plant up pots of lettuces and basil seedlings. Then leave the patio looking beautifully tidy and organised and weed up the driveway in the shade. Easy as!

Well, all I can say to that is 'humph'. Actually, I can say something else : 'it isn't fair'. So I'm going to start my whole gardening day off again, just as soon as I've had lunch and a cup of tea. I will sweep the patio, finish dead-heading the roses, tie up the tomatoes, clear the floppy New Dawn rose canes from the path, and put the watering hose underneath the Othello roses (which are partially dead-headed).

 Shakey shake!
Dogs by the Pond

And then perhaps I could make a start on the driveway. But I must stop wandering off to pull out the odd weed. Because then I see even more mess, new mess, new, horribly neglected garden mess, and I get down-hearted. As would anyone!

 The prettiest small blue flowers, which seem to last for ever


I've done my best. But it's really hot out there. Silly to be gardening when it's so hot. Drinking lots of water, staying in the shade, listening to the dogs panting... So we all went into the pond to cool off, and now we've given up and come inside.

For the love of the garden, and the beauty of all things natural, be they roses or be they weeds, I am now going to male an announcement.

I will...

I will stay positive at all times. I will marvel at tiny treasures like the little blue Lobelia in pots. I will weed and dead-head with a smile. It's the week before Christmas, after all, with greater than normal 'busyness' all around. A new phone to get used to, Christmas food to organise, lots of singing Christmas Carols, friends to see, cards and calendars for 2017 to produce... All is calm, all is bright, I promise!

Funny that a mere rose (and a thornless one, at that) can initiate such a grumpy mood!