Friday, June 06, 2014
Blossom and flourish etc
It's a busy time for those of us who insist on making their gardens as labour-intensive as possible. Mine is small but still takes a lot of fiddling with. If I could wave a magic wand, I'd supernaturally empty all the flower beds and plant them up again, but lacking the wand (and being nearly 64 with a dodgy back) I have to keep hacking at the thug plants individually in a pathetic and ineffectual manner to stop them spilling out into the street and taking over the neighbours' gardens. I've just come in, at half past ten at night - at this time of year it's easily light enough outside at that hour to see what one's doing. It's also light enough to see the snails and slugs as, licking their lips in anticipation, they happily make their way towards my favourite plants - which are also their favourites but for different reasons. I lack the resolution to jump up and down on them, which would be a good way of stopping them BUT HORRIBLY SQUIDGY - UGH.
I find it hard to throw bits of plants away, so there are lots of pots sitting outside with flourishing little plants in them and I really don't know where I think I'm going to put them in my full garden.
Why do I make life so difficult for myself? I should be a cat. They don't bother with horticulture. Or piano lessons. Or patchwork.
Dr Son has just been made a partner in the GP practice where he's been working as a locum, which is - well, it's very good, of course. It seems no time since he was learning to crawl. I look at the grandchildren and think - it'll seem even less time till they're up and off. Life is brief. We watched various D Day programmes today and I thought about my parents: Dad who was in the war in the Middle East and Europe and Mum who was in London during the Blitz. They would have been so interested to see the commemorative programmes.