A spring decision

This spring I decided not to produce any of my own flowering annual seedlings. I would save huge chunks of spring gardening time, which would be redirected to weeding. I would dominate the weeds in my garden. Oh really?

 Ready to eat.


My pots of out-sourced seedling lettuces, spinach, kale, spring onions, pansies, and so on are growing brilliantly. I've transplanted self-sown daisies and cornflowers into garden gaps. This part of the process is definitely working.

But I have never seen more weeds than this spring, popping up here there and everywhere. The more time to see them, the more there are to see? Piffle. Aha! Pin the blame onto something else - the birds, the mess of pasture weeds next-door - anything. Except the resident gardener and her lack of consistency and method. Humph. As if a few duck-dives while wandering around with the dogs can possibly make a difference.

Wednesday 25th October

Aha! And here's another grumpy paragraph. Today's early morning walk in the orchard with the dogs - half-awake, happy and dreamy, silly thoughts surfacing (e.g. how shoes that don't leak are such a simple, wonderful comfort). Pebbles sneaks through the fence to next-door. And will not come back. And will not come back. And still will not come back. And... will... not... come... back. I end up dog-furious, the morning mood is spoilt. It's all one-way with Pebbles and her issues.

 What a sweet looking dog!

OK, so I didn't have my little container of tasty dog treats. And I guess I lost my sweet as light dog-training voice. I love walking around in the mornings, and I just wanted to relax and enjoy the moment.


Solutions? Put her on lead? Stop taking her into the orchard? Go to bed wearing a pouch around my neck full of meaty treats, so I don't forget it? Lighten up and stop taking this dog-training so seriously? I'm shaking my head. I thought that getting a new dog would be easy as. Well, silly old me. And now we are off to the dog park, and I am in a bit of a mood. Grr...

 Two Collies.
Dog Wrestling

A bit later...

So sorry about all that. We enjoyed the dog park. I made a list in my head of all Pebbles's good points. She's gentle with the little people, she's OK (if a little obsessed) with Tiger the tortoiseshell, she and Winnie play together (lots of fun, never too rough, chasing and leaping over one another)... And she loves me. Hmm. Well, maybe she does. She likes me?

And now, with my ladies' spade, I intend to turn my whole day around by doing some good honest weeding. Ha! Garden weeds, just you wait!

Much Later...

Yeay! Nothing like some robust weeding to make me feel one thousand times better. And my lovely dogs, keeping me company, with just the occasional howling duet directed at the farm dogs across the road. Sitting on the back lawn (freshly mowed) the garden borders do look well-behaved - at a distance. And I know my garden is less weedier.

 Beautifully mown grass.
The Back Lawn

There are more roses flowering - welcome, Crepuscule, pergola rose pf distinction, Paul Transon, AKA the Woodshed Rambler, Fruhlinsgold, rusty Masquerade, etc. etc. Welcome, fungus spray. Welcome, early summer?

So, Pebbles my new dog, while the weeds have been colonising my garden for twenty years plus, you've only lived here for six short weeks. People are sooooo impatient, expecting instant rewards. Small steps. Deep breaths. And so we keep on working at it. Grow strong, my darling dog.