On the edge...
I am sooooo happy! Sooooo happy! After years of buying second hand edging shears for two dollars, and then finding them hopeless at cutting anything (funny, that), I've flashed the Visa card and bought some brand new ones. And not off the budget shelf, either. Model - Freund. Oo la la! They're silver, strong, and they work! There's a lesson to be learnt here.
New Edgers
And the next lesson is equally obvious - look after your new edging shears! Don't leave them lying in the lawn. Don't throw them on the bonfire, or bury them in a pile of mulch. DO NOT LOSE THEM. Remember how thoroughly enjoyable it has been today to trim the border edges with decent edgers. Nurture this thought. Then clean them after use, and hang them under cover somewhere safe and sensible. Hmm... Stern words.
Big Red House Rose
So yesterday I zoomed around the back lawn gardens - whoosh, whoosh I went, so easy, such a great cutting feeling. Neat and tidy edges make the garden look neat and tidy. Of course there are a million other things to do. I'm deconstructing a fence. I'm still pulling out annual forget-me-nots.
Not me!
I'm watering, and of course I'm oohing and aahing over the beautiful roses. And the mess from my edging work will need to be scooped up by the plastic rake and removed. Can't leave a job half done! Hmm...
Later, trimming update...
So now I've trimmed the edges of most of the Frisbee Lawn Border, cut out the prunus suckers with my (equally) new ladies' secateurs, and restrained the Clematis montana from throttling various shrubs. I've also pulled out a thousand forget-me-not plants. It's beautifully sunny outside - the perfect temperature for trimming edges, hee hee.
Conversations with a duck.
A mallard duck with eight fluffy ducklings keeps on appearing on my pond. Yesterday morning, as the dogs barked at her and she shrieked back, I tried to explain. This is a scary pond. There are barking dogs. And sneaky, silent cats - by far a worse threat. Please go away!
And did she? Not a jot. There she is, this morning, and in the course of 24 hours she has 'lost' five ducklings. Aargh! I will not be held responsible for a duck that doesn't listen.
OK. More forget-me-nots - I've now made a start on the Welcome Garden, near that pretty once-flowering red (old-fashioned) rose. What is it called? Hmm... The 'other one' by the path is Hebe's Lip, just about to flower.
Old-Fashioned Red Rose
A rose puzzle...
Hopeless. One thinks one is keeping a nicely detailed journal, then one forgets to note down rose names, and shifts the roses around willy nilly, without keeping track. The red is possibly the Gallica James Mason? This is me being a detective, knowing which local nursery the rose came from, and that it was a so-called 'old-fashioned' rose, but not having a clue about Gallicas.
Next day...
I have worked sooooooooo hard. I've watered, planted Zuccinis, taken the spade to the Alkanet by the Welcome Garden, and ripped out swathes of nearby forget-me-nots - in between throwing balls and frisbees for the dogs. Late in the afternoon, over to the pond we all went to throw sticks. Oh dear - change of plan.
Mother Duck was back, now with two ducklings (one less than the morning). Better not throw Winnie's stick in the water. Phew - Pebbles never goes swimming. Oh, doesn't she just? In she slithered, with just her nose showing, a furry U-boat, sleek and nasty of purpose, no splashing or barking. After several circuits, daft Mother Duck got the pip, abandoned the ducklings and flew away. Later in the afternoon I heard an ominous 'peep peep peeping' in the house gardens...
Postcript to the Duck...
That duck now sploshes noisily onto my pond at daybreak, squawks a raucous lament, waking me and Minimus my cottage cat up. Duck! I am not responsible.