Moosey the Moocher...
ShrubbyLavatera
Only the seventh day of the year and I'm feeling garden-petulant and moochy. An emergency list, quickly : Sweep the patio and the decking. Tidy all the pots. Stack stray firewood logs, pick up old plastic planting pots. Rake the weeds off the driveway. Take pleasure from the mundane.
Saturday 7th January
Who said that gardening life always had to be vibrant, new, exciting? OK. Just get out there and knock off that list. You see, 'moochy' has a huge element of attached guilt and regret, which surface afterwards, spoiling bed-time and sleep. Being simply lazy is quite a different matter.
Much, Much Later...
What a weird day. I pottered around until mid-afternoon, making semi-satisfactory progress. I came this close (holds up little finger sideways) to mooching over to the cottage for a snooze when Non Gardening Partner appeared with a large pack of raspberries. Yum! This seemed to revive my spirits and energy, and then I zoomed outside and did two definitive, specific things.
1. I relaid the stone edge of the path from the Laundry Garden through to the glass-house. This area is now delightfully clear of Cotoneaster, Plum, and yellow Banksia. It's light and bright. I haven't filled up the gaps with plants yet. I haven't really thought what to plant. The hydrangeas look beautiful.
The New Path
2. I widened the pond-side garden by the pond decking. This area has become the pond overflow zone, and so is suitable for marginals. The pink Filipenfula is flowering, and I have some spare pots of this summer perennial. For now I'll mark the end of the new garden strip with a Phormium in a pot.
New Stone Edge
And so my day now feels amazingly good, and I am really proud - phew! That was a close thing. Maybe too much of the mundane is too much of a turn-off. And that list did sound rather grumpy, having a sort of 'housework' feel to it, after all.
Poor Rusty
Sunday 8th January
Oops. Rusty the old dog was clipped yesterday - so he is for the moment a 'pink Border Collie'. The groomer found one grass seed which had buried itself in his fur. But was unseasonably cool last night, and this morning he is shivering. I've remodelled big brown Escher's suit to fit him until it warms up. Such bad timing! It's mid-summer, supposed to be...
So what's today's plan? When the 'firewood help' arrives, as promised, we will be shifting and stacking logs in the woodshed for next winter. Next winter! Aargh! But until then I'm going to weed around the Laundry Garden, and clear the path through to the Pond Paddock. And repeat (mutter?) the mantra de jour : 'I will not get moochy' 'I will not get moochy'.
Much Later...
Two trailer loads shifted and stacked - I estimate two month's worth of cold days and nights catered for. And I've cleared a barrowful of mess from the Septic Tank Garden. Rusty, meanwhile, is not having a good day. He is very subdued, I'm not sure why. Maybe he goes to the vet tomorrow - he is due to have another set of blood tests, and the previous ones weren't good. Dear dog.
Pick a flower that never, ever gets remotely moochy? I'd choose a dahlia. They just take life as it comes - rain, shine, wind, whatever. There is also a Charlie Parker jazz song called 'Moose the Mooche'. I didn't know that. My theme song! But only some of the time...