Ugh. I decided today to pop down into the front garden – which is mostly a bog garden – and whip out the six-foot-tall dead steams of last year’s Meadowsweet to put into the base of one of the remaining raised garden beds that still need to be filled.
It should have taken me just 10 minutes. Instead I was diverted by weeds, weeds and more weeds. Three wheelbarrows (stacked high) loads and three hours later I still have not got near the Meadowsweet. Moreover, because I’d gone down intending to only take out the dead Meadowseet, which is near the raised pathway, I’d only worn runners … and this is a bog garden.
I am sore, tired, very, very achy, but much of the front garden has now been weeded. Although there is still much to do I can see the end of it … which means I can see the end to ‘fixing up’ the garden after leaving the thing for a year to its own devices while I was ill.
It is drizzling rain at the moment – thus I am in here on a lunch-break. I’ve left my tools out in the weather, which means that I need to make it up to them later with a good oiling and sharpen.
On a positive note, last night after a couple of brandies (who said alcohol wasn’t good for you?) I suddenly thought of where I could shoehorn in the extra quince I have (I had only wanted one, but the place I ordered them from insisted that the minimum order for posted fruit trees was two). They arrived yesterday, and I heeled them into a pot of compost until I decided where I could fit them. Quinces are supposed to be self-fertile, but it is ‘thought’ they benefit from having another close by. Unfortunately, these two quinces will need to be separated by the entire length of the garden, so I hope the bees and the birds will ensure nothing stands in the way of true love.
Anyway, I bought a Fullers Quince and a De Borgeaut Quince. One will go close by the back woodland, and one – ta da! – right by the front steps of the house where it can grow to arch over the front steps.
Here is a photo of the Meadowsweet from last year, I think. This grows to well over six feet tall and the flowers, either pink or white, are just breathtakingly beautiful.
Done. I donned my blinkers, went down and hauled out all the dead Meadowsweet stalks (they may be tall and thick and rigid but mostly they just lift out of the bog), then rescued the tools and sharpened and oiled them and stuck them back on their rack. Virtuous am I.