Sheer willpower got me from my bed this morning.
Or maybe it was the cats clamoring for breakfast.
They do that, and woe betide if it’s late.
Groan. I was sore!
In the end, yesterday, I dragged my sorry butt out to the garden. Mostly to deal with a bag of “dirt”.
Grant found a trio of flower pots in the garage recently, so we decided to thin out some plants I got last year.
And for a long time, that’s as far as it went.
As you can see from these stunning photographs, I’m really good at weeds. I have an abundance.
I was quite vexed when my “lawn” man came the other day and cut down all my lovely yellow flowers.
But the wee white ones are so close to the ground, the blade passes right over their heads. Wild strawberries seem to be everywhere this year.
I haven’t investigated, but I imagine that’s not a bad thing, as the bees seem to like them and if they actually bear fruit, no doubt other creatures will be happy.
Ever since I first owned a house I’ve been fighting dandelions. I’ve wasted so many hours pulling them up. Why, I don’t know, since they just grow back promptly.
But I’ve made the moral decision to let them grow in the interest of saving bees. I read somewhere that is what you should do. They are cheerful and you never have to worry about them the way you do about those plants you buy at a nursery, at great expense!
Which takes me back to the flowerpots Grant found.
When he pulled them from the garage, a few weeks ago, I said: “We need potting soil”.
The flower pots sat on the gravel for a month.
“We need dirt”, I said. The pots moved to this spot.
….Until the “lawn” man moved them.
By now, “dirt” had arrived.
Fortunately for the lawn man, I had dragged it onto the walkway. I wouldn’t want the guy to have a hernia.
Thinking about it, I had decided it would be better to let the plants recover from Winter and grow a bit before trying to thin them out.
I haven’t a clue, but it made sense to me and it was too cold to think about being outside.
I was once told I was very good at excuses.
But yesterday was such a lovely day, I decided the time had come. No more putting it off.
Except, I knew if we didn’t discuss the matter, Grant would say I put the pots in the wrong place.
He was busy, so I asked him, and he said wherever I put them, they could always be moved.
“Not by me, mate!” I said. Not with plants in.
So this is where the pots finished up, but as you can see they are still empty.
I should have specified “potting soil”, I guess. Somehow I knew what was in those bags was the wrong thing. I daresay it would do, but when I cut into the bag, the “dirt” was so heavy and solid, I could barely pry bits of it loose. I was ill-disposed to mold lumps of it into the pots, never mind attempt to seat traumatized plants in it.
However, our vast squirrel population has been digging holes throughout the flower beds, so I dropped lumps of the “stuff” here and there and stomped them into the ground.
By now, I was sore and dirty and grumpy.
Actually, I was grumpy to start with.
From wrestling with this plant.
It also needed thinning out. I should have done it last year instead of allowing myself to be talked out of it.
Then, I was happy for an excuse because there were spiders all over it.
I didn’t see one yesterday, but something got me. I am allergic to every insect God created.
Another reason I don’t like gardening.
So we still have a bag of whatever it is (I really don’t want to know) on the walkway and the flowers are still not thinned out.
I made a new request for potting soil.
Part of the reason I am grumpy has to do with the “lawn” man, but it is so involved, I’m not sure I can explain….I’ll try. I like a challenge. Feel free to fast forward or ignore:
When I moved here, I took on the same services from the people who were here before, including the people who mowed the lawn. They happened to also be the people who plow snow. Brilliant.
But some weeks ago I got an email telling me that one of the lawn chaps has decided to open his own business and I needed to decide who I would go with.
I’ve only ever known that there were guys by the name of Bob and Mike but the lads who actually turn up…I’ve no idea who they are. They arrive in a truck, unload their mowers and buzz around for ten minutes, sending birds and wildlife scurrying for cover, then they load back into the truck and that’s that. But who is Bob and which is Mike? And who do the guys work for now?
Some chap came by to say hi. I think he was the guy who abandoned ship. He was the first to make a pitch for the job, so I said “great, carry on”.
Then, not much happened because we had such a prolonged Winter, but one day recently there came a truck with mowers and chaps, who didn’t speak , just did the job and buzzed back off.
On the 9th we had snow, what do you know. And at some un-Godly hour I thought I heard a plow. Sure enough, when I rose at 7 am, the walkway had been shoveled. It was Saturday, so even in normal times, it was unlikely I would be going out early and in May, snow is not likely to stick around, so I thought “that’s a bit cheeky”. However, times are hard and I understand. No big deal.
After all. I may have wanted to suddenly rush out into the night.
Not two days later, – hark! What do I hear…it’s the lawn guys! Back again to trim that quarter centimetre of grass that may have grown? Or are these “the other guys”?
Grant heard the racket and came to look at me darkly. “What the hell?”
I was sitting at my desk asking myself “who is who, and which is doing what out there”. It’s the kind of thing I am very bad at. I wound my neck in and kept on typing.
So, Grant went out and found out who those guys were and agreed that they will come every 3 weeks.
But I am still half expecting to hear that sound again, any minute now…buzzzzzzzz
And if it snows again, all bets are off.