Garden

[bunn]

Normally by this time of year the garden is starting to manifest itself in its form of a giant hairy green monster thing with attached feelings of guilt, reminiscent of the Greenwitch. But this year things are still under control: there are jobs to be done, but nothing that requires a machete. The lawns are even mown! And the apple blossom is really fabulous: just hoping it will hold off raining for a few more days to let Henlady's bees from up the road finish their job.

I think the fig tree is early this year: it's already covered in thumb-sized green figs. I wonder if that's because I pulled the late-season figs off at just the right time? More likely the weather though.

There was a minor cockup on the squash plant front, when I fell over holding all the seedlings and the labels went *everywhere* but fortunately, all the plants survived. So I shall not know which varieties do particularly well, but at least with a bit of luck I should get some squashes.

The lime tree I bought as my Millennium Tree has miraculously survived being strimmed to death by Polo, and is now looking really healthy. They are supposed to do well as coppice stools: maybe I should cut it down again next year.

The jobs to be done:

Cut the bottom half of that annoying hazel hedge that is such a git to get at.
Mulch and fork over the remaining beds ready for beans
Plant beans
Acclimatise squash and pumpkin seedlings to outdoor life
Plant out squash and pumpkin seedlings.
Burn all the bramble roots we have dug up so far.
Attack that hedge on the rightof the back garden that is now 5 feet too tall with the pruning saw.
Mulch the strawberry patch.
Plant out the peppers in the greenhouse.
Get the wormery producing plant food as well as compost.
Attack the beech hedge back right with the hedgetrimmer


I don't think I realised when I had a garden that was fenced, just how great fences are. Or walls. Or any kind of perimeter that doesn't GROW all the time!

Comments

[ladyofastolat.livejournal.com]

Ooh, is this going to turn into a game of reverse one-upmanship: "My garden's more disastrous than yours'?" :-)

Our garden is moderately unwild and unwoolly precisely twice a year: Just after my mum has visited, and just after the annual pre-Wightfrag cleaning frenzy. For the rest of the year, it gets only very occasional grudging bits of attention when we notice that we can only just see the tips of the cats' ears as they wade through the lawn.