Spring Gardening, continued

 

Having the ME come roaring back in the wake of the flu is perversely proving to be rather good for my poor neglected garden—because I’ve essentially cancelled everything and am staying home and . . . sitting around is not my best thing even when I feel fairly deathlike I’M NOT DEAD YET so in this shockingly spring like weather with the SUNLIGHT and all the accoutrements like gentle breezes and bumblebees, I’ve been going outdoors and poking things with a trowel.  Although this is the time of year that I usually do try to make an effort to establish some kind of . . . well, let’s not get carried away and call it order, but some kind of rough beating back of the jungle* outdoors, while I’ve got last autumn’s disgraceful plant over-orders relentlessly arriving in the post in instalments what feels like every day.**  But spring is also when, as you clear off/out the AMAZING amounts of rubbish you haven’t dealt with since . . . oh, August or so***, you get to see what’s alive† and what isn’t . . . as well as look for where the doodah you’re going to PUT all the stuff arriving in the post. ††

Two more boxes of plants in the post today, one of them petunias, siiiiiigh . . . we’re supposed to have more frelling frost over the weekend.  My sweet peas, having rejoiced at finally getting outdoors and off the Winter Table over the hellhound crate in the kitchen, are now starting to get cranky again:  sweet peas don’t like their roots messed with and they’re starting to punch through the pressed whatever-it-is-not-peat plant pots that you plant as is, and the roots grow through it and the pot disintegrates (more or less).  An old experienced (professional) gardener I often see out walking his dogs says plant ’em out now, they’ll be fine.  Ummmmmm . . .

The second box . . . is wider than it is high.  It is, however, vividly and generously labelled THIS WAY UP with helpful arrows on all four surfaces suitable for this direction.  And when I opened it . . . the single plant within is lying on its side because it is TALLER than it is WIDE and this is the ONLY WAY this particular plant would FIT in this particular box.  Said plant is a pitcher plant, so it is planted in what amounts to a small piece of marsh which of course has poured all over the bottom floor of the This Way Up box.  ARRRRRRRRRRGH.  Nursery mailroom FAIL.

I didn’t get the petunias potted on today which is maybe just as well if the touch of FROST TONIGHT††† is true since a small tray is easier to wedge indoors than a large tray‡ but I would have got all the new roses planted . . . if I hadn’t bought two more yesterday when I was buying a BIRTHDAY PRESENT for a FRIEND.  Thus do thoughtful gestures screw you up and make extra work.  ‡‡

PS:  Staying at home is also good for my knitting.

* * *

* Souvenir de la Malmaison, I’m looking at you.  Actually there’s a whole dangerous little gauntlet right there.  Souvenir is the worst, but Little Rambler who is not little is rioting on the other side of the path and Agnes, who as a rugosa should probably be categorised as a dangerous weapon anyway, has eight-foot stems looking for trouble just beyond Little Rambler.  Abandon Hope All Ye Who Are Dumb Enough to Try to Enter Here.  I’ve also decided that I don’t mind the bleeding freely nearly as much as I mind having one of the three Evil Sisters grab me by the hair.  BEHAVE OR I’LL PRUNE YOU.

** The mornings I’ve had a bad night and haven’t lumbered out of bed yet are inevitably the mornings when one of the new, young, timid or letter-rule-toeing pains in the ass postpersons can’t just leave the frelling box(es) but has to KNOCK ON THE DOOR AND GET ME TO ANSWER IT.

*** It’s very good for wildlife NOT to have a tidy garden.  You’re supposed to leave all the brush and dead stuff standing, okay?  I am very wildlife oriented.

† CLEMATIS FLAMMULA.  YAAAAAAAAY.  http://apps.rhs.org.uk/plantselector/plant?plantid=4415

She keeps dying on me.  Now that this one has survived a winter I’m afraid to pot her on. . . .

†† Furthermore I have frelling Alicia visiting on Monday.  I could have said no.  I could at least not have offered her Third House to stay overnight in.  Sadly I would quite like to see her.  What’s the matter with me?  She is not only a gardener with a proper functioning greenhouse^ but she’s lately done all kinds of extensive and exquisite remodelling on her house and . . . um . . . ^^

^ Continuing AAAAAAAAUGH on this subject.  Although I hear a rumour that Atlas is over his flu so he can perhaps have shovelled out the worst Monday before she gets here.  Not that even at its best my greenhouse could fairly be described as functioning.

^^ Note that Alicia reads the blog.  Hi Alicia!  ::waves::

††† We had a hailstorm yesterday which took out one of my baby cosmos and ripped off a few geranium stems—but they’ll regrow, and I think the cosmos is toast.  WHO WANTS TO BE A GARDENER.  Fool.

‡ Although the Winter Table, which exists to support the indoor jungle on chilly overnights, is presently covered with rose photos mostly cut out of old calendars . . . remember the new refrigerator?  Remember that my Dwarf Appliances thrust themselves in an unsightly manner into the centre of the room?  Well, the back of my new refrigerator needs decorating.

‡‡ Like offering friends with better control of their lives and environments a place to stay overnight.