Clipping, yanking, chopping, and taking my garden back
Hello friends!
I'm back after a week off and loving how the garden is getting so FAT! We had lots of rain while I was away so the first thing I did was to remove all the seedlings from their waterlogged trays and empty them out. I also mowed the lawn, which takes only a few minutes now that I leave most of it shaggy.
Here are this weeks five minute forays
Monday:
I'm still dealing with piles of holiday laundry, so it's almost dark when I finally manage to inch my way outside. I have a glass in one hand and can't find my gloves, and I cannot be bothered to go hunting for them, so I do the laziest thing possible and start pulling at the bindweed that has come up while I've been away and thinks it has escaped my notice. Pulling is, of course, the worst thing you can do to bindweed. By pulling at it you will inevitably break it at the roots, and those roots will just spring back up again. It's altogether better to approach bindweed removal stealthily, with a widger or long tool, grasp the stem gently and chase its roots wherever they go (which can be far). But look, you can't do that with a glass of wine in one hand and no tool in the other, so I yank. And yanking is better than doing nothing. You are at least saving the poor plant that it is strangling. So I yank at a couple of bits of the stuff and then call it an evening.
Tuesday:
It's one of those days where I look outside and all I see is mountains work to be done, and I panic and don't know where to start. This type of overwhelm seems to form part of my DNA. It is my default state, and I am used to it. It's why I began five minute gardening. I tell it to shut up and do my old trick of tackling the first and easiest thing I see that needs doing. In this case, it's not even a job that's necessary, but I decide to chop the spent flowers off my aquilegias. They annoy me, those flowers, looking all dusty and taking attention away from those beautiful fresh leaves. So I get my kitchen scissors and chop.
It takes less than two minutes and I automatically move on to tackle the rest of the bindweed. My blinkers are now firmly on. Overwhelm gone.
As I walk inside I hear a large rustling; my rose has come away from its trellis - the string broken, due to the flowers' great weight. I go and find string (it is orange, but this is an emergency) and tie it back in again, bending the stems as I do so, in order to get more flowers. I never seem to manage the beauteous, well-managed, close-to-the-wall rose thing like they do in posh gardens. I've stopped feeling frustrated about this and now just enjoy the romanticism of the whole abundant mess.
Wednesday:
I go out and start clipping the box balls. It's time. They've recovered really well from the caterpillar attacks and need clipping if they're going to stay in shape. I need good structural shapes in my garden because it is so very wafty and messy, so this is a must-do job. I use my Niwaki snips, which are a joy to wield. I cut quite a bit off (see below uncut on the left and cut on the right). I manage two balls before I have to go in and make food that nobody will eat.
Thursday:
There's nothing for it. I have to do something about this duck weed. I grab my daughter's tennis racket and put on my wellies and some marigolds. I then spend five rather satisfying minutes fishing out all the duck weed I can. This is a serious problem and before Chelsea this year I was casting about for an answer (it's pretty much impossible to eliminate). I pounced on a lady at a water-plant stand whose name escapes me right now... I have it written down somewhere but WHERE??? Anyway she was standing in the great pavilion beside perfectly clear, inky black pools filled with waterlilies and asked her what she does. Apart from dying the water black, which prevents photosynthesis (watch this space) she gave me her simple piece of wisdom which was to tackle it on a daily basis. Little and often, as you pass by, with a sieve or a tennis racket, or your hand, is the only way to stay on top of it. As you can imagine, this ethos appeals to me.
Friday:
I'm getting to breaking point with my table full of seedlings and something has got to give. There comes a time around June when the whole situation simply becomes untenable, like a political scandal, and swift action must be taken. Heads must roll. Everything must go and in its place, I want my table and chairs where I can relax and be happy. I fill two large wide containers with compost and put a few of my masses of calendula in.
I plant another lot in the borders and I will have to forego the rest. That's okay. They are not even pricked out yet and it's really past the time for that. Next will be the strawberries which need another week in their little pots, before they get planted out in the borders. I want them as edging EVERYWHERE. I feed my pelargoniums and sweet peas, and I water everything.
Middle child turns five on Sunday and we're having a dinosaur party...
No extra project this week. Instead, a list of things I WOULD have done last week had I been here. In no particular order:
A bit of mowing
Some tying in
A steely day of dealing with my compost (more of which next week)
A little more planting out
A bit of blow-torch action on my brick terrace
Some meditative box clippage, with ensuing feeding
Beefing up the agapanthus with a generous meal
And one more thing...
I've been blogging a bit about Chelsea and the things I loved there. It's a continuous series and I don't know when it will stop, but you can find everything at LaetitiaMaklouf.com
Have a wonderful weekend and do hit reply if you want to talk about or ask anything
All the good things, always
x Laetitia
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