I wanted to rest on Good Friday and bury all my seeds, to be miraculously raised to life in about 3 days later. I’m sure Gesthemane saw plenty of flower power in action after all that happened there.
So. I secretly sowed some sweet peas in the community garden. Everyone will think they are just peas and try and eat them but..no, wait..they smell sweet, and flowery.
I expect some backlash from the ‘I only want food in my garden’ hortivulturalists.
But meh. That should convict them of neglecting to give their sweethearts/wives flowers on Valentine’s Day.
Also..in a fit of guerilla sniperdom, I scattered poppy seed everywhere. Well, it’s only fitting. Anzac day anniversary and all.
After deadheading the daisy/chrysanthemums, I then attacked the flower carpet of thorns. I hacked and hacked away until the three bushes my brothers had planted like bombs were mere stumps. Then took the thorns to be burnt. In hell.
They give no scent, so how do you even know they are roses? A blind person would think they are just gorse.
To stop them from growing again, I poured straight apple cider vinegar on them..and covered them with pots, plats and a rusty bucket and lightproof bags so that they would die like reverse vampires from lack of sun. Phew, what a relief.
No more thornville. They seem impossible to dig out without breaking one’s back. Mum tried. Dad wimped out. He got thorned, and whenever he bleeds us women have to come to the rescue with bandaids. What is it about men and blood? I don’t know.
Although, the thorns do come in handy to stop chickens scratching around…as long as they aren’t growing in MY space.
Snowy’s bed is looking fine now. He got the catmint, the convolvulus that’s Kings Plant Barn’s bestseller, a not sure but it’s pretty shrub that I moved to be under the tree- acer? Not sure. Lambs ears, all manner of spring bulbs, daffodils, freesias, snowflakes and..bluebells. The lavender free from Palmers is till there, as is some oregano, and I stuck in some rosemary…for remembrance.
The rest I seeded with…honesty, and ubiquitous mustard, poppy, and various other annuals and perennials I forget now. They’ll show themselves soon enough.
Socks’ bed got the Warehouse treatment, they were selling cyclamen for only $2.50 a pot..so I put in about five. A spiderplant I depotted from a hanging basket is now at home under the feijoa, and several of it’s babies. I plan to further seed it with sweet violet..and then Socks will get his dream bed, with the lone clivia, mondo grass, maple, and of course, box.
The two other L shaped beds mulched and sowed and soiled. Various annuals will soon make their appearance. that vietnamese mint..is still there, as is comfrey. I cut down the french lavender, it was leggy, and made cuttings, but I’m not sure if they will take. So English lavender is there instead, which I think I prefer..it’s the most fragrant of all.
The rockery is looking much better. Rosemary is lying prostrate amongst the rearranged granite, various seedlings are coming up, sweet william is happier by the olive tree, and the echeverias have divided amongst themselves and conquered new territory. Hibiscus is budding..and hyacinth is in a bucket.
More pots..while I don’t really enjoy potlucks of the edible variety..so much hassle, so much wastage..if they are flowery and hanging or herby I’m fine. Better if they are big and I can squeeze many different kinds of plants in one.
Now there are three window box mangers on the fence, there’s trailing ivy, busy lizzie, geranium, lobelia, catnip..and strawberries.
And sweet peas in pots to climb the fence. And even a new passionfruit, which has three crucifixes staked nearby on Fluffy’s grave. I know..it all seems very..garden of eden. But I swear, that passionfruit would not grow even a leaf, I had to buy a whole new one. Black beauty. As was Fluffy, who was terribly vain. She now has a kowhai, a manuka teatree, and that passionfruit to keep her happy. Later on I will mulch and see if I can introduce some catnip, but I think Fluffy might prefer something a bit more royal..like Bishops flower, or queen Anne’s lace.
The rest is as before but growing, and netted and chicken wired so that all my hard work does not come undone. Besides, I discovered worm castings. They can do the fertilising for me, as well as chicken manure..
Mum still thinks it’s a waste of time and I should get a real job.
huh.. I don’t think you could pay me to get a real job. I plan to take winter off and just write stories about How I couldn’t find a real job and gardened instead.
