Be more specific!
Fred in the Wheelbarrow
I need to stop being so vague. Self-instructions like 'Continue the trimming' and 'Prune more roses' will not do. More detail is required. I mean - exactly what needs to be trimmed? And which roses? Humph. I will try and be more specific this weekend. Why? Because Spring is sneaking into my garden. The growth tempo is accelerating. The days are longer, the light is warmer, the borders are greener. More Camellias are flowering, and the first spring bulb colours are appearing. And this morning I saw the very first blue forget-me-not flowers. I picked them for the house, hee hee.
Saturday 15th August
It must be a rare gardener who can nod proudly, knowing that everything is ready for spring. That must be the grandest feeling, yes? Imagine seeing all plants in proper positions, trimmed (pruned) if trimming (pruning) was needed. Imagine everything fitting together, ready for the burst of growth towards summer. OK. Here's a list. I've tried to be quite specific.
- Trim Phormiums along edge of water race.
- Dig out unwanted Carexes from edge of water race.
- Trim ornamental grasses - namely Miscanthus and Calamagrostis.
- Prune roses in house borders. Don't forget Westerland.
Am already feeling slightly rebellious. My free-spirited inner-gardener might decide, if things get too tedious, to wander off and plant the new Viburnum snowball tree, the new variegated irises, the new pink summer phloxes). She might even do a spot of serious weeding.
Five hours later...
It took me a long time to achieve rather little. One Miscanthus trimmed, ditto two water race Phormiums, Carexes removed from about three meters of water race bank. I zoomed off to plant more variegated irises, and I raked up mess and leaves from the Pond Paddock. I tried to attend to little details. For example, I trimmed some Hebes. I potted up a small green Carex and an Anemanthele grass - properly. I had to dig a Lupin out of the path behind the pond, so I pulled off the basal shoots and popped them into mix. Hopefully they will set roots and build strong new plants. I love lupins. Gave thanks for my wading suit - warm as toast inside it.
Trimming the Phormiums
So that's five hours trying to be specific. Blast - I didn't even get to the Westerland rose. Tomorrow. Fill in the gaps, finish the list. And burn all the mess - ran out of daylight to do that today.
Tomorrow, morning...
Drinking second cup of tea, log burner blazing merrily. Do I feel like going outside (in light frost) to start my winter bonfire? No way. But I am a gardener. And this is NOT how gardeners are supposed to think. They are supposed to leap out of bed and straight into the garden, with rake and shovel in hand. My goodness this tea is taking a long time to drink. Hmm...
OK. Back from a long dog walk. No excuses. Have checked in with yesterday's list. Back on goes my wading suit, and back into the water race I go. Will weed the driveway garden if I need a rebellious break. But won't start the bonfire until late, late afternoon. Don't want to spoil a gloriously sunny day.
White Daphne
Three hours later...
Cold feet (but not wet), and I've cleared another six meters of water race. Details - I've dug out more Lupins from the dog path, since I plan to (ahem) weed spray it. I've cut down the old canes from the variegated Arundo reed. And I've found a rose struggling to stay alive between two huge green Phormiums (which, of course, have had their dead leaves trimmed) Suspect it's a coloured Iceberg, will be returning to dig it out.
Just finishing my lunch break, and then - who knows? The clouds have rolled in, making the day feel much colder, so I might start the bonfire. Then I will be committed to trimming more of those big grasses and raking up more leaves (its called strike while the bonfire's hot).
Later...
Humph and blast. I went out and did some wood splitting, whence a flying piece of wood gashed my shin. Ouch. Ouch! Bandaged, leg up, watching Youtube Himalayan trekking videos. Getting wound checked out tomorrow at my doctor's. Humph and blast I say again. Gardening has come to a temporary halt. SO sorry, Westerland! You'll have to wait!