They say it’s easier than it looks…they lie

Spring is knocking on our door in England and something big, round and shiny can be seen above our heads. A glimpse of blue sky, and some warmth on my skin, makes me delusional and not for the first time I believe I have green fingers. With this yearly twisted belief in myself, I venture into our neglected greenhouse in a vain attempt of looking like I know what I am doing.

Last year’s hanging baskets may look like they have had something small and furry nibbling at them during the winter months, but this does not deter me as I have just brought several trays of spring flowers, several bags of compost and, of course, I have a trowel, and only gardeners who know what they are doing own a trowel – right?

So why do I always end up with more earth on the dog (who always chooses to snooze in an inconvenient place) and the inevitable feeling that as soon as I hang them outside there will be a frost to kill them all? Yet there is something relaxing about being in the warmth of a greenhouse, planting flowers on the verge of blooming and with a snoring dog at your feet.

At the end I proudly survey my work. Numerous hanging baskets hang from a wooden pole, each filled with colourful young plants and waiting to be hung outside. I smile smugly at my gardening skill, proud at what I have achieved. It doesn’t last long. The pole breaks and my carefully crafted little pockets of nature plummet to the ground. Out shoots my earth covered dog from the greenhouse and out flies a few colourful words from my mouth.

Like I said, there is something relaxing about planting flowers in a hanging basket, it’s just I haven’t discovered it yet. I think it’s time to pick up a book instead.