I’m back in the Matchbox Garden away from the coast as I prepare for further eye surgery on Tuesday, so had a trip to the nursery, bought a few things and had a little bit of a plantathon… not that one really gets a sweat-up in the Matchbox, unlike my Northern Hemisphere friends who are sweltering!
Today I offer up a bit of a mish-mash of pics because in all honesty, there’s only so much to see in a garden that’s tiny.
We’ve been in the city for 10 days, but are now back in the big garden. Despite lack of water and freezing conditions, the garden has surprised us, doing things with a distinct ‘Where’s spring?’ attitude. My six might show that our garden is gradually waking from winter (such as winter was…)
In town for ten days or so, it’s been possible to check on the progressions of the Matchbox Garden. Walking around it takes a whole ten minutes. 🙂 But love and care of same can take as long as a piece of string. I’m sure gardeners out there know what I mean. For example, one of my new auriculas is struggling and as its a new cultivar from a breeder-friend, I am hoping it will survive. Hope comes with necessary research and so the piece of string has no end…
Anyway, here’s my Six on Saturday and the fact is that I could have put more in as spring is starting to push up from beneath the soil. There’s only about 40+ days till spring and less than 100 to daylight saving!!!!
It’s been an age since I joined in posting on SoS, partly because it’s been a busy month, with the publication and release of the new novel.
Lots of new nerves as its a new genre (contemporary fiction) and there’s a need to entice new readers. Writing a book is so like gardening. You plant a seed, you feed it, water it, support it as it grows and you prune it and shape it, you feed it again, then you watch and it flowers and you can sit back and admire it (if you are lucky!).
The first day of winter!
This year is absolutely flying and still we haven’t had meaningful rain. The domestic water catchment is right down and the village’s streets and public areas are dusty and sad.
We’ve been away for 10 days and our big garden and the coastal surrounds look terrible. Worse is that the garden and lawns are covered in a fallen leaf mulch. The mulch would be good if I could get the soil deeply wet first of all. But it’s not to be. We do what we can though – hand water and blood and bone fertiliser.
I haven’t uploaded for awhile, what with having my first cataract operated on and Easter etc, and I’m being very naughty and shoving a couple of extra images on board.
It’s incredibly dry here – no truly meaningful rain since last year. As I sit, I listen to a rabid west wind and the swishing of the sprinklers on the borders, desperately trying to moisten ground that hasn’t been touched by the gardener for over 14 days.
This summer is so dry. We had slightly mad rain burst about 3 weeks ago and since then, nothing. The only bonus is that the weather is cooler and tonight, it has the chill evening feel of approaching autumn. But the truth is the garden is tired. There are few flowers and very little colour.
The vegetable garden still gives most generously on a daily basis and we continue to eat very well. Not missing meat at all. We have yet to pick Beurre Bosc pears, Sturmer and Granny Smith apples, and quinces.
So what do I have to show in the borders, if anything?
As summer continues to bake our garden, it becomes more difficult to find anything to talk about. One can bemoan the cost of the water with which we irrigate the garden on a heavy daily basis. One can whinge about the dry thunderstorms and the humidity immediately after. Or whine about the longing for an autumnal-styled day so one can work happily in the garden.
Another Saturday, time flies!
We had to spend time in the city this week and so had three days messing about in the Matchbox garden. We trimmed the hedge that separates our townhouse from the row behind. It’s about 3 metres high and 25 metres long – made of awful shrubs that grow in weed proportions here. Things like the Cotoneaster Glaucophyllis and the New Zealand Mirror Bush which seed horrendously and choke our native species in the wild and our own gardens.
