Tree planting, bulb-saving, and proper actual planet-alignment
Hello friends!
If you're new here, this is where I do a bit of a run-down of my week in the garden (all five lots of five minutes of it). Most people read what interests them and then hit reply to give their opinions or ask questions (or just say hi) WHICH I LOVE, so please feel free to join in x
I'm struggling to think of something witty (or even vaguely interesting) to say as I sit here with my glass of wine on this rather chilly Friday evening. I do the entries for this newsletter each day (ish) and then I put it all together on a Friday evening.... So I'm going to share the first thing that's in my head right now, and that is the book I've just finished listening to - The Mermaid and Mrs Hancock by Imogen Hermes Gowar - read beautifully (obviously) by the inimitable Juliette Stevenson on Audible. It had me rapt from beginning to end, and I am totally in awe of how brilliant it was. Hugely recommended and perfect for whiling away a few hours in the garden (or, in my case, running by the river, or collecting small children from school). Any eighteen-century-ness in my writing tonight is entirely the fault of this book (and possibly the wine).
Monday: Utterly deflated by the freezing rain, I go into the shed to tidy up a bit (always needed) and find a small white paper bag behind some vases that looks like it's about to explode. It is spiky and taut and just full of such TENSION, and I realise that within are hyacinth bulbs, and that said bulbs must actually be growing, desperately trying to break out of their papery prison. After being cross with myself for forgetting them (a futile emotion) I quickly grab a pretty china bowl from the kitchen, fill it with bulb fibre, push the bulbs in and water. Sigh of relief, and I'm secretly thrilled at the idea that I will have more hyacinths than ever I thought. I've only had the pleasure of a fraction of these so far.
Tuesday: I undo my wreath (yes the Christmas one) which I have been meaning to do for so very long, with the intention of saving the wire for next Christmas. I'm being ever more drawn in to the world of zero waste. I follow lots of zero wasters on Instagram and try to learn from them as much as I can about using what you have. It's not just a question of being a good recycler; it's really about being unequivocally intentional about everything we use, buy, eat or do, so as to make the least impact on the environment. Slow living - that much-used moniker/hashtag which seems to signify pale-grey-tones-with-a-hint-of-brown-and-lets-not-forget-the-chunky-knits is a wonderful gateway to this type of thinking, and I have made a commitment to myself to think more carefully about every choice I make. Long story short - I spent a bit of extra time (five minutes if you must know) undoing the wire stays of my wreath, rather than just chopping through them with my secateurs, and stashing the spoils safely for this December when they will be used again.
Wednesday: Oh God. I make fat balls. WITH A CHILD. What was I fecking thinking????? No fecking idea actually. Fat, Birdseed, Scissors, with a KID...what's not to fecking love folks???? If you're new here (and you've read this far, and haven't unsubscribed in horror) then I gave the recipe for these last week - you can find it in the archive. Tip: Don't do this with children.
Thursday: What bliss is this? Have the planets aligned? Is this some parallel reality? Have I died and gone to whatever 'Heaven' is? Or are my children ACTUALLY playing and laughing and tumbling and having fun, tearing around the garden with cheeks plump and pink as fat cherries, looking like something out of Kate Geenaway (if Kate Greenaway did winter). Bloody hell, but I never knew life could be this utterly perfect. Not a single whine, or tear, or shriek (other than of joy) and I am left alone, to mulch to the sound of pure unadulterated mirth, to the tune of not one, not two, not three, but FOUR bags of manure....FOUR BAGS FOLKS! That's at least twenty bliss-minutes for me. I want to cry with love. I realise that sometimes perfection really, really does happen, right there in your back garden. Sometimes we attain our own private Nirvana. Mine is a space where my children are happy, and there is much joyful clamour, and birds are tweeting, and I am gardening.
Friday: I do what I call my HOOP-WEED. This is a sort of shorthand for a device I used to use when my garden was much higher maintenance I used to give me the heebiejeebies every time I went into it. I would take one of my daughter's hula hoops (she had several) and drop it over an area, willy-nilly. I would then drop to my knees and weed there, and there only. Not looking up until it was done. Not surveying even the tiniest patch of the rest of the weed-infested place. It kept me going, in much the same way as #thefiveminutegarden does today. I weed a difficult area, full of brambles and green alkanet (pentaglottis sempervirens) - which is rampant in my garden. I then plonk a load of manure over the top and feel like an ACTUAL GODDESS.
Saturday: A bonus day! It's the day I take delivery of the three amelanchier trees that I have so longed for... I procrastinated getting them for two reasons - firstly because my mother says I am crazy to fill my lawn with trees when I need it for the children. You might have thought that in middle age, I would have the courage of my own convictions, but the problem is that my mother is mostly right about pretty much everything, so I do tend actually to listen to what she says most of the time. I have ruminated on this for two years though, and have come to the conclusion that I probably know my own kids and my own garden and my own MIND better than she does (only probably though!). The second reason is that I didn't have enough money. I still don't. We'll worry about that another time shall we? Three men are in my garden digging holes, planting trees and eating toast with jam. I literally could not be happier. This is my jam.
Here, hot off the press, are the before and after photos. Let me know what you think!
Before...
and after....
All the good things
xx Laetitia