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Diggity dig
May. 12th, 2009 12:31 pmI am awash in a sea of bluebells.
And mulch! I've a mountain of fragrant, lovely deep-chocolate-brown humus that's just been delivered and I hate to ruin the perfection of the mound with my shovel and wheelbarrow. The sun comes and goes in a mosaic of clouds that occasionally sprinkle down a snatch of rain - the wind is cold enough to warrant a light jacket but everything smells so fresh I hate to come in. I mix the planting mix and soil in my barrow with the shovel like a giant spoon, stirring brownie mix together. Dig my hands in deeply and rub the little clods apart until its all velvet crumbles.
My new fig trees have shyly presented me with the tiniest little figlets I've ever had the delight to discover. Will they survive to ripen this fall? The figs and I both hope so. My new jubilee roses have opened their very first blooms and I feel like a mother whose child brings home a drawing 'just for her'. Yesterday a new clumping bamboo joined its brethren along the back fence - fifth and smallest of the lot, perhaps we'll name him Fiver. "Fraser" the Photinia Fraseri finally found his place as well. The yet nameless crimson rhubarb awaits a home, as does the laurel....
Ah yes. A laurel. And no little shipka or portugese laurel, mind you... this is an English Laurel aka a MONSTER PLANT. ( Yes, I know they're a giant formless green blob... )
I'll just have to assume it will not yank its roots out in the middle of the night and go lurching about the yard.
And mulch! I've a mountain of fragrant, lovely deep-chocolate-brown humus that's just been delivered and I hate to ruin the perfection of the mound with my shovel and wheelbarrow. The sun comes and goes in a mosaic of clouds that occasionally sprinkle down a snatch of rain - the wind is cold enough to warrant a light jacket but everything smells so fresh I hate to come in. I mix the planting mix and soil in my barrow with the shovel like a giant spoon, stirring brownie mix together. Dig my hands in deeply and rub the little clods apart until its all velvet crumbles.
My new fig trees have shyly presented me with the tiniest little figlets I've ever had the delight to discover. Will they survive to ripen this fall? The figs and I both hope so. My new jubilee roses have opened their very first blooms and I feel like a mother whose child brings home a drawing 'just for her'. Yesterday a new clumping bamboo joined its brethren along the back fence - fifth and smallest of the lot, perhaps we'll name him Fiver. "Fraser" the Photinia Fraseri finally found his place as well. The yet nameless crimson rhubarb awaits a home, as does the laurel....
Ah yes. A laurel. And no little shipka or portugese laurel, mind you... this is an English Laurel aka a MONSTER PLANT. ( Yes, I know they're a giant formless green blob... )
I'll just have to assume it will not yank its roots out in the middle of the night and go lurching about the yard.
