Orphaned succulents, neglected dahlias, Miley Cyrus and BROKEN BRAINS 😱
Hello friends!
The holidays have properly started. I renamed the summer holidays 'the hellidays' (inspired by the Scummy Mummys). I like this moniker because I can squeeze it out in normal conversations and people hear it and then correct it in their own heads, so I can vent my frustration without seeming in any way whiney. I spend my life trying not to whine about extremely high class problems and the summer hellidays are are prime example of this. I probably needn't go into it much, except to say to those who are not parents, that, other than being a lovely contrast to the drudgery of school morning life, and (not-insignificantly) a total JOY for your children, for the adults involved, holidays parTICularly don't have much to recommend them. I've got better at them as the years have passed, primarily through the lowering of my expectations, and deliberately slowing down, keeping things super-simple and crucially, not trying to DO very much. Enough said.
In case you missed it:
Summer feeding: what's in my garden food cupboard - a bit more info, and links to what I use to feed my plants.
Eruption value: my favourite plants for hanging baskets - you can still plant one (or lots) up now!
My home made cleaning products (some of you will already have seen this as it was originally sent out with this newsletter back in February, but if you haven't, then this blog contains all the recipes for the household cleaning sprays I use at home, together with links for the ingredients)
Here is what I got up to in the garden this week:
Monday
I mooch around in the shed and decide, on a whim, to do something about it. Once again, it has become a complete bomb site. The reason (apart from my lax attitude to putting things away properly) is a good one; the shed has played host to a robin's nest. Three babies have fledged and I have SO enjoyed watching their parents both building the nest (which I absolutely cannot find) and spending every waking moment feeding their brood. It reminded me of myself when I first became a parent; absolutely obsessed and unable to concentrate on anything apart from the needs of this brand new thing in my life. The birds are long gone now, and I am left with a bird-poo-strewn mess of a shed. Something needs to happen, but as is so often my way, it won't be today. Instead I sweep and deadhead and water and enjoy. I switch off the WhatsApp (end of term madness is happening there) and sit for a few moments.
Tuesday
A child gets sent home from the saving grace that is nursery school activity week with a temperature. She is so hot and deeply cross about it and she tells me through angry tears that her BRAIN IS BROKEN. I love her more in that moment than I think I ever have in her short life and realise that this is quite the very best way to describe a headache. I give her telly and water which cheers her up immensely and dash outside. I was going to mow today but it is too hot and I don't want to risk a brown lawn, so I tentatively enter the shed and start going at it. Five minutes later I emerge victorious. The floor is clear and everything is back in its place. The bird poo is still there but can wait until winter when I will get busy with steaming hot water and a scrubbing brush. As always, thinking about doing this took weeks and the actual DOING of it was five minutes. I have a VERY good tip for any budding shed tidyers out there and it is this: go and get or borrow a leaf-blower - it will clear your messy dirty dusty floor in seconds and make you feel like Beyonce. Now I'm going to get to the very shameful part so fasten your seatbelts friends. Guess what I find hiding (nay LANGUISHING) under some discarded hessian in the corner? An entire tray of succulents that's what! All wrinkled up and on the brink! Baby ones! In baby pots! I could cry but I don't... I bring them outside and water them, cursing myself. The horror. The badness. And that's not all. Oh god. I also find three dahlia tubers, all desiccated, trying desperately to grow green shoots, valiantly, like martyrs. Yes, I HATE ME TOO. I water these also and resolve to try and be better and do better etc. SHOCKING.
Wednesday
Small person is still feverish. This is obviously not just a 12 hour thing. I stop giving her medicine and submit to hunkering down with her for as long as it takes. She is so brilliant - just telling me she wants to sleep and please will I just go 'way. Gulping water, crying sometimes, laughing sometimes and doing all the important things she needs to do to move through it. School finishes and I quickly pull out the remnants of one of my cut and come again salad pots, add a bit of fresh compost and plant the dahlias in it. Let's see how they fare but this has GOT to be better than the corner of my shed.
Thursday
I have to go to the gates of hell (Westfield) to find some THIGH-COVERING shorts for my daughter who is going on camp. The camp is called 'Parents Get Lost' and my eldest daughter would definitely have voted for that name. The kit list stipulates that all shorts should cover thighs...not, I think, for any prudish reasons but more, I presume, to prevent sunburn? or injury? I dunno...all I know is I have to go to a shop that doesn't sell plants and survive. We go to a sports emporium piled high with revolting tat (I sound like the proverbial grandma but it's true) and staff who could not give a SH*T. The theory is, I think, that the more you want to get out of there... the greater the sensory overload from the colours and the music and the lights and the flammable fabrics and the smell and the UN-HELPFULNESS, the more you will pay for the crappy stuff, JUST SO YOU CAN LEAVE. We find something acceptable, haemorrhage money on it and vow never to return, like EVER. Even my daughter (who listens to, and appreciates MILEY CYRUS) hated it. So there you go. No gardening
Friday
The fever has worked its way out of her body, and it's raining! I love it! Allelulia! I go outside once the big plonky raindrops are gone and find an old shallow terracotta pot that contains some bulbs (god knows what) and is top-dressed to boot. The dusty, gritty soil is perfect for the orphan succulents. In an ideal world I would put them in little pots of their own but I don't have time or space right now. They need immediate attention and I only have five minutes. I remove the gravel on the top, throw the old bulbs into the back of my borders, re-mix the soil, adding some multi-purpose compost and plant the little babies, tucking them in firmly and watering before I top-dress with the gravel. Again, it takes five minutes and I feel like I've redeemed myself. It's going to be touch and go with some of the plants - I'm fully aware that they might die, but they ALSO might NOT so....! I leave the pot in the rain and retreat indoors.
Loved getting your brilliant messages last week...thank you!
x Laetitia