My gardens, front and back, are looking sorely neglected. I can hear the front garden calling, piteously, to me, every time I set off along the garden path on a trip to the shops. “Look! Look!” they complain,
“Have you completely forgotten all about us?”
To be fair to myself (bearing in mind I do try to be fair to others, so it’s only right to
extend the same courtesy to myself) this is not the season for spending hour upon hour in the garden, digging and delving - but generally I would by now have done a bit of judicious tidying up, allowing the spring bulbs a chance to see and be seen.
This afternoon, I set off for the garage down the road to buy a bottle of wine to enjoy with our dinner. It is true we could have abstained - but we will be watching Les
Miserables tonight so we will need fortifying. Les Miserables is so very, well, miserable...Before that, we will watch Call the Midwife which is getting closer and closer, time-wise, to the days when I gave birth, thanks to some amazing community-based midwives,
not so very dissimilar to those who inhabit Nonnatus House. It looks so very old-fashioned as portrayed on TV, it’s hard to remember that this is How It Was For Us.
Anyway, I digress - my trip to the garage coincided with a spell of sweet sunshine. It was still pretty chilly but I could feel a tingling in my green fingers. Not that my fingers are all that green (I am, at best, a Trial and Error Gardener) and it
might, of course, have been the stiff breeze - but I suddenly felt inspired to tackle a bit of a Tidy Up as soon as I returned from my Wine Related Mission. I reckoned I could probably put it down to extra physiotherapy on the Problem Shoulder, provided I
remembered which movements were allowed and which were still strictly forbidden. Besides, I did have another arm...
It took a while to remove all the dead Cosmos
branches spreading untidily across the grass - but behind them I discovered several wallflower plants, modestly making their presence known. I understand what it is like to be a wallflower, having been one myself on many a sad occasion until Mr B happened
along and whisked me off into a Mad and Merry Dance which has lasted all these years. Though these days, to be strictly accurate, our dancing is more in our imagination than on the dance floor. “Look at you!” I tell the wallflowers, admiringly,
and they smirk back at me. We know we are a bit early, they seem to be saying, but we wanted to get a head start on the primroses when it came to bagging a favourable position in the border.
In the front bed, I see that the daffodils are coming through with their usual stout determination. “Trust us,” they are saying, “When did we ever let you down?!” As in, I have to concede, never.
Mr B is wondering where I am. He was pretty sure he heard me return from my shopping mission, he says, but then I seemed to disappear again. I explain as best I can but Mr
B is not as worried as I about the State of The Gardens. He is rather more concerned about the fact that I haven’t put the kettle on, being too busy conversing with the wallflowers.
So, the front garden is looking a little bit neater - the back garden is a whole different challenge. I check on the vegetable trough in which I am growing, not vegetables but more spring bulbs. You see, I ran out of time to plant
all my bulbs last Autumn so I took the easy option and planted all the remaining bulbs in the vegetable trough. I mean, nobody ever said that this wasn’t allowed, did they? Plus I reasoned that a trough full of crocuses, daffodils, tulips and grape hyacinths
might be a most attractive addition to my Spring Garden. Though to be strictly honest (and I do think the Daily Blog should always strive to be honest) my decision was mainly based on the fact that it would be very much easier to plant all the bulbs in the
trough, as I wouldn’t have to bend down or try to dig holes in the stubborn earth.
It may not have been such a good idea, after all; I fear that an Intrepid
Burrower has been visiting the vegetable trough and digging up the majority of my bulbs. It (as in the Intrepid Burrower) must have been surprised to unearth such bounty.
Still, my short stint in the garden has cheered me up no end. It has proved to me that, however negligent I may have been in recent months, Spring is still, well, springing.
It always, but always, does. I am SO very glad to say...