Hello friends
Back to school has given me a metaphorical ābreak in the weatherā and itās like a weight has been lifted. Very much still revelling in the sheer joy that is the garden in late summer. Itās my favourite time, probably because itās somehow less easy for a garden to be lovely in late summer, and therefore accomplishing it requires thought, and dedication, and a bit of experience. I appreciate the slightly tired, mussed up feel, full of textural contrastsā¦perhaps itās my age and the fact that I am so inspired by all my friends, that our easy beauty in youth (which by the way NONE of us appreciated properly) is morphing into something less outwardly visible but so much richer.
Monday
The Monday sweep (in which I pick up a broom and move it around) is keeping me sane (although Rotter might dispute that) and today I brush the terraces and paths with a particular gusto, for no other reason that than that this is the first Monday in a while that has felt ānormalā. Of course, it isnāt normal, because this morning I must take my childrenās temperatures before I walk them to school, and this morning I am wearing a mask around my neck, so that I can swiftly cover my mouth and nose before reaching the crowds at the school gates (yes friends, the crowd control measures that the school have dutifully put in place according to government guidelines have simply pushed us parents into a smaller, more cramped space outside the gatesā¦just saying) and oh, this morning, as with many many mornings preceding it, the chatter on the way to school between me and my five and seven year old children, has included the phrase āWhen this is over can weā¦.ā and āWe canāt do that because of covidā.
I remove some bindweed that I spy winding its merry way around my still-small hydrangea paniculata and decide that this week will be the week I order some supports for it. This particular plant is multi-stemmed, and it really needs some sort of corset if it isnāt going to flop all over the place in future. It strikes me that I perhaps ought not to have planted the things without first thinking of their stays, which were always going to be needed. Itās like buying a backless dress and suddenly realising, on the night of the party that you donāt have one of those special backless bras to go with it. Useless, frankly.
Tuesday
I am at the very special moment in a gardenerās life (they only come around occasionally) when my ball of string is about to finish. Why do I love this moment so much? Duh! Because I get to order more string of course! I am a sucker for a ball of fine twine - there is something incredibly satisfying about having string, in many colours and permutations, exactly where you need it. Here are my favourites.
Iām trying very hard today not to be freaked out by the fact that when I wake at 5.30am it is already twenty degrees outside. The last thing I want to do is spoil peopleās fun. I am well aware that there are many (most?) who enjoy boiling hot weather for long periods of time, but I do think that the attitudes to cooler, damper weather need to change. I don't take issue with anyone describing hot weather as ālovelyā but I do get annoyed when people (weather broadcasters in particular) always describe anything other than sunny weather as ābadā or ādisappointingā. And yes, the ASSUMPTION that we all love a heatwave is troubling because although we may not know it, words are powerful; we internalise them and move with the herdā¦the lady on the telly says the weather is lovely, so my disquiet at it must therefore be misplaced. The facts tell us a different story, although of course I am also aware that itās pretty normal to have a āreturn to summerā in the autumn. I move around the garden in the half-light with my watering can, giving all the pots a good soak, and then set the hose to the tiniest trickle and put it beneath beloved shrubs. I will be moving it around all day.
Wednesday
I am itching to mow the lawn but itās been too dry; I simply cannot risk a brown lawn. I am still on a high at the novelty of having some space and time to myself during the day. The way I use this time has been pretty hap-hazard. Sometimes I find myself entirely consumed with DOING ALL THE THINGS, and others I just flop down, utterly exhausted, unable to lift my headā¦ until pickup time. I used to feel ashamed of the latter type of day, sure that there was something seriously wrong with meā¦and, well, perhaps there isā¦or perhaps, PERHAPS there are many many women in many many homes just like me, lying prostrate and immovable, HAVING A REST.
I spray the children with the hose at home-time, and, towels around shoulders, we look at all the spider webs, touching the silken guide ropes of the webs gently and jumping slightly as the spiders appear out of nowhere looking for the culprit. I pick up windfalls and sweep the path. I havenāt pruned the ivy which grows thickly along the entire length of the garden for about three years. It is ALIVE with bees so obviously Iām not going to prune it any time soon, but the trees along this boundary do need freeing from its grasp, so I begin chopping around their trunks to create space for them, like sculptures in a dedicated niche.
Thursday
We leave the house for school amid much huffing and puffing after Domino decides that she doesnāt like her shoes. She wants a new pair. Preferably patent leather with metaphorical (or real) bells on. I try to explain calmly that her feet are of the wide sort, which wonāt fit into the type of shoes she wants so badly, and that she needs to be thankful for her marvellous trotters because they carry her around all day etc. A deep sigh happens, followed by the phrase āI JUST WANT A BETTER LIFE MUMMYā and once again I thank my lucky stars for giving me these wonderful creatures who make me cackle at 8.01 in the morning.
Still laughing, I pull my favourite shears from their hook and start pruning the bay tree into something columnar. It has done ridiculously well since it was planted about five years ago, without much thought or care. It certainly never got any water after that first watering in. I get up on a ladder to finish it off and marvel at how chopping a plant into a solid shape can transform it from zero to hero. The trick is knowing when to stop.
Friday
More watering this morning, and a moment of decision has me digging up a hydrangea that is struggling in the dry weather and that I donāt even like anyway. It is surrounded by a large daphne and two osmanthus, none of whom share its diva-like behaviour and which I enjoy far more. The relief at having it gone is joyful, and the extra space will very soon be filled with more daphne as it continues to spread out.
The supports I ordered for the hydrangeas I DO like have arrived and I plunge them into the flowerbeds, carefully teasing the stems up into the new support. The whole thing looks divine.
All the good things
x Laetitia
P.S. you might have missed:
Hello. Can you please share what sort of support you are using for your hydrangea paniculata?
HI, I've only just subscribed . I'm loving it, brings a smile to my face and your thoughts resonate with me. Just decided to say goodbye to a hydrangea that I don't like!! Thank you.