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On Plans for a Weekend Gardening
May. 23rd, 2013 12:39 pmI have a long weekend this weekend. Friday and Monday off. My mum is visiting.
I’m going to do some gardening for about the first time in a year.
I’ll be heading off to buy some plants from the local garden centre. They are running a three for the price of two offer on quite a few shrubs and perennials. I have a little spare cash. I have slave labour in the form of my mum and My Lovely Wife and some spaces in the garden. Mainly these are space close by or underneath larger shrubs. I’ve got most of the structure of the garden sorted in terms of larger shrubs. I say larger shrubs, large for the garden. It’s only a small space, two areas about four by four metres with a metre wide raised bed round the edges. So a large shrub is no larger than 2 metres tall and probably smaller. What I’m trying to finish off is the four dimensional nature of the garden height, depth, width and time – I have space under and over things but also areas where not a lot is happening at certain times. I want little delicate things to nod and wink at me from beneath sternly lowering dark leaved shrubs. I want slender elegant things to soar through static foliage to wave to me as I come home. I want things that creep along the ground, covering the bare soil and the scurrying of bejewelled insects. I want things that burn brightly in the early summer or smile jocundly at me in the late autumn, early risers and late to bedders.
Like a Stephen Moffat plot for Doctor Who there a holes, in time and space, and I intend to fill them.
There are some other jobs
A few things need moving. I have a shrub in one corner that is not doing at all well. I’m going to move it. I hope it will prosper where it’s going. If not, I fear it is mortally imperilled where it is. I also have two patio roses in large ceramic tubs on either side of the door. They need to be moved because they are quite sharp thorned, in the way of getting around some paved paths and stopping the Captain enjoying his garden. I’m not quite sure where they are going but I’m sure I’ll find them a home somewhere.
I might put up some hanging baskets if I can remember how to stop them being stolen.
I’m also going to retire the compost heaps.
The council have just introduced waste food collection in my street. This includes food waste that I wouldn’t be comfortable composting in my front garden, like fish bones and uncooked meat. Knowing that it’s going to a good home and being turned into compost means I’m not worried about the food ending up in landfill. And all the food waste can go in it, not just some. One bag or two? One bag. I don’t generate that much garden waste. Not enough to support a compost heap. The other factor is that I’ve never actually produced any compost. I don’t know where it’s going. I put a plastic bag of food waste in the compost heap each week. Narey a spoonful of compost do I collect. The heap shrinks in size. The worms look fat and well fed and not at all constipated. Where is the organic material going?
Like a Stephen Moffat plot for Doctor Who there must be a hole that the good shit is leaking out of.
So a compost heap I don’t need to dispose of organic material and which doesn’t actually produce any compost – doesn’t make the cut.
I’d quite like to create a seating area where the compost heaps are. It’s in the corner of the garden furthest from the road. It’s just possible that MLW and I might be able to sit out there during the summer day and keep an eye on the Captain as he carouses up and down the path in front of the house. He can wave to us he performs death defying feats of courage and skill on his scooter. We can talk about our days without the blare of CBeebies mesmerising our souls. A cool beer might be indicated.
So, once the space is clear of the compost heaps
That actually sounds like quite a lot to get through, even in a long weekend.
Like a Stephen Moffat plot for Doctor Who, I’ll have to rush through it at breakneck speed, cut a few corners and hope that nobody notices.
I’m going to do some gardening for about the first time in a year.
I’ll be heading off to buy some plants from the local garden centre. They are running a three for the price of two offer on quite a few shrubs and perennials. I have a little spare cash. I have slave labour in the form of my mum and My Lovely Wife and some spaces in the garden. Mainly these are space close by or underneath larger shrubs. I’ve got most of the structure of the garden sorted in terms of larger shrubs. I say larger shrubs, large for the garden. It’s only a small space, two areas about four by four metres with a metre wide raised bed round the edges. So a large shrub is no larger than 2 metres tall and probably smaller. What I’m trying to finish off is the four dimensional nature of the garden height, depth, width and time – I have space under and over things but also areas where not a lot is happening at certain times. I want little delicate things to nod and wink at me from beneath sternly lowering dark leaved shrubs. I want slender elegant things to soar through static foliage to wave to me as I come home. I want things that creep along the ground, covering the bare soil and the scurrying of bejewelled insects. I want things that burn brightly in the early summer or smile jocundly at me in the late autumn, early risers and late to bedders.
Like a Stephen Moffat plot for Doctor Who there a holes, in time and space, and I intend to fill them.
There are some other jobs
A few things need moving. I have a shrub in one corner that is not doing at all well. I’m going to move it. I hope it will prosper where it’s going. If not, I fear it is mortally imperilled where it is. I also have two patio roses in large ceramic tubs on either side of the door. They need to be moved because they are quite sharp thorned, in the way of getting around some paved paths and stopping the Captain enjoying his garden. I’m not quite sure where they are going but I’m sure I’ll find them a home somewhere.
I might put up some hanging baskets if I can remember how to stop them being stolen.
I’m also going to retire the compost heaps.
The council have just introduced waste food collection in my street. This includes food waste that I wouldn’t be comfortable composting in my front garden, like fish bones and uncooked meat. Knowing that it’s going to a good home and being turned into compost means I’m not worried about the food ending up in landfill. And all the food waste can go in it, not just some. One bag or two? One bag. I don’t generate that much garden waste. Not enough to support a compost heap. The other factor is that I’ve never actually produced any compost. I don’t know where it’s going. I put a plastic bag of food waste in the compost heap each week. Narey a spoonful of compost do I collect. The heap shrinks in size. The worms look fat and well fed and not at all constipated. Where is the organic material going?
Like a Stephen Moffat plot for Doctor Who there must be a hole that the good shit is leaking out of.
So a compost heap I don’t need to dispose of organic material and which doesn’t actually produce any compost – doesn’t make the cut.
I’d quite like to create a seating area where the compost heaps are. It’s in the corner of the garden furthest from the road. It’s just possible that MLW and I might be able to sit out there during the summer day and keep an eye on the Captain as he carouses up and down the path in front of the house. He can wave to us he performs death defying feats of courage and skill on his scooter. We can talk about our days without the blare of CBeebies mesmerising our souls. A cool beer might be indicated.
So, once the space is clear of the compost heaps
That actually sounds like quite a lot to get through, even in a long weekend.
Like a Stephen Moffat plot for Doctor Who, I’ll have to rush through it at breakneck speed, cut a few corners and hope that nobody notices.
