Tipis, tulips, marigolds and going OUT 💃🏽
Hello friends!
Rather late letter this week, because life, and the fact that the weather is making a rather decent play of it being SPRING, which means I cannot bear not to be outside IN IT whenever I get the chance
Monday
I repot my cobaea, which are still in their sowing medium. They need lovely rich compost, bigger pots and, crucially, a stick to climb up. Once I've finished, I remember why I am always restrained when sowing seeds, because once they're out of their baby pots, and there's still a risk of frost, then ones kitchen gets truly crowded, (unless you have a greenhouse).
I put them in a pretty tray and plot about where I'm going to grow them eventually. Speaking of crowded kitchens, I go out this evening...like, out out, with a dear friend, to a SALON....yes, people do actually still have them - they didn't die with Lady Ottoline Morell. This one was thrown by the inimitable Susan Mactavish Best in a street in East London that could have been a film set, so replete was it with specialist coffee bars and tattoo parlours and hipsters with man buns. She had gathered a couple of hundred people into a tree-house like apartment, complete with enormous monstera climbing up the wooden, fairy-lit beams and a SWING (yes, you read that right) and had a small panel of brilliant people talking about modern-day citizenship and what that actually means. Susan cooks for everyone at these gatherings and I was so inspired by her ability to bring others together that I wondered whether I shouldn't try and do the same. Anyway, it was very rare and wonderful to spend time with a darling woman I've known since we were seventeen, sans children and drink champagne and hoot with laughter. Lots of witchy cackling and crucially, no regrets.
Tuesday
I say no regrets, but I do have a rather adult headache this morning. But it's all okay because my three amelanchiers have burst into blossom. I take out my newly sharpened hoe and drag it through the top layer of soil in my flower beds, working hard not to slash anything precious and enjoying the sight of all those little weed seedlings frazzling in the sun. I'm a bit of a weeding bore, because I enjoy it so much; it is my favourite method of procrastination. I can do it with headphones on and a get taken away into a novel or podcast while I faff around near to the earth, which always smells good. Anyway. I'm a bit of a stickler for not being slapdash when I'm weeding, and that means that I will only ever use a hoe once I've been on my hands and knees (or haunches) digging out pesky tap-rooted perennial weeds. Slicing these with a hoe is fine and will stop them temporarily, but in some cases it will actually make the plant stronger. And we don't want that do we darlings?!
Wednesday
I spend the morning with lots of gardening people at the launch of the National Gardens Scheme Yellow Book. I love this book, and if you don't have it, and you live in the UK then it's really worth knowing about. It's full of gardens open for charity all over the country, so you can go and gawp at other peoples gorgeous and interesting outside spaces and eat cake and contribute to charity too. Basically it's A VERY GOOD THING. They raised a huge 3 million quid last year. It's a bit exhausting though, so when I get home all I manage to do is put up two bamboo tipis in the back flowerbed.
Such a simple thing and it TRANSFORMS the space - forgive me for sounding all designer-ish - but it 'DRAWS THE EYE UP'. I contemplate putting two yew obelisks there in future years but for this year, I'll be growing runner beans up them. Love my tipis. More soon.
Thursday
I spend the morning writing a piece about begonias. Not saying anything about that, except that ANYTHING can become interesting and fabulous if you spend enough time thinking about it. I pick a load of tulips that have emerged stealthily and beautifully, for their second year running, dotting the garden with gorgeous purples and reds. I can't remember what variety these were but I'm so glad I didn't pull them out, as I didn't plant any tulips at all in the garden last year. They go in a vase and suddenly I have an unintentional but blissful tablescape comprising pea shoots, hippeastrum and the tulip vase. Things are looking up.
Friday
I discover three forgotten pots of calendula that I sowed last autumn, languishing under a table. Oops. They could have been in flower now if I'd potted them on or planted them out sooner. I gather all the small pots I can muster and divide the seedlings up into individual plants, putting them in new compost with a pot to themselves. I end up with a table-full of little calendula plants, which will help to fill up gaps in my borders later in the season. This is all done very quickly and roughly, in the sunshine.
This is the sort of gardening that makes me happiest... unintentional stuff...bonus stuff. I wait until the dampness on the lawn has receded and get the mower out. And once I've done that I get all the cushions and rugs out, and then about twelve children come home from school and bounce and run around until dark. This has been a good day.
All the good things, as always
x Laetitia