Jaqui's Daily Blog

Tuesday 11th September

It was such a lovely day today that I really couldn't bring myself to spend it in the garage - even though, I am ashamed to say,  the Clearing Out The Garage Project has stalled badly in recent weeks.  Instead, I turned my attention to the back garden.  In fact, you might say, I went quite potty...

 

I love our back garden. It's not a fancy garden, with dine-outside-on-a-summer-evening decking or willow fencing or, indeed, any of the features beloved of TV make-over shows.  The most accurate description might be that, like Topsy in Uncle Tom's Cabin, it "just growed."  In fact it's grown quite a lot since we moved in more than a quarter of a centruy ago and the shrubs have completely taken it over.  It's as if they have made a silent declaration to remind us that it's their space, not ours. 

 

This troubles Mr B, who from time to time threatens to start chopping away to restore some order.  Occasionally I allow him to undertake some judicious pruning but most of the time, when he starts gazing round the garden with the zeal of a born-again lumberjack in his eyes, I remind him of the blue bush.  Which he killed.  On a pruning spree many years ago.  Indeed, whenever we see such a bush alive and blooming in someone else's garden, I am wont to murmur, wistfully: "I used to have a blue bush just like that...." 

 

Two thoughtful former colleagues, who heard this sad story over dinner in our garden earlier this year, bought me a replacement blue bush, one of my absolute favourite retirement gifts.  This is now growing and thriving in the garden along with the rest of the shrubs - and Mr B is not allowed anywhere near it. 

 

Anyway, I digress.  The job I decided to undertake this afternoon was to clear the area once described by my son-in-law as "the graveyard of pots." Considering English is his third, if not fourth language, that man certainly has a way with words.  He also had a point - it was impossible to see one section of the patio which abounded with overgrown, weed-ridden pots of every shape and size. 

 

Not any more, I can report, triumphantly.  I have emptied them all out, cleaned them up, and they are lined up against the wall waiting to be planted up with springtime bulbs.  I am turning the graveyard of pots into a nursery.  What's more, it turned out that it wasn't quite such a graveyard after all.  Buried deep in several of the pots was a veritable cornucopia of bulbs.  I have no idea what they all are so I have simply planted them in hope.

 

Which is what gardening is all about, isn't it?

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Latest comments

09.06 | 00:14

We always called ourselves Maids of Kent.

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02.05 | 10:44

Could try a dry run with the wheel chair and see where the snag points are.
I like the catapult idea as it just sounds so effortless!

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11.04 | 14:05

Now I want to learn the art of towel folding!

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22.03 | 22:20

I had to look up ambiturn. Power to you Jaqui. And our good wishes to Mr. B. Please mind your back and give yourself a break now and then.

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