Gardening...
In the twenty years since we've been in our house, our garden has undergone some changes. The biggest was just after T was born - a friend who is also a landscape gardener helped us to revamp the rather boring, straight-pathed and plain-grassed area into something with a bit more movement in it and a stone patio, so the kids could play out even when the grass was wet.
When it was first done, it looked amazing. After nearly fourteen years, it's in need of some TLC.
Thing is, I love my garden. I just don't like gardening.
I like being outdoors - preferably reading a good book in the shade or soaking up a few rays. I really envy people with lovely gardens. I know you have to put the effort in, but gardening just doesn't float my boat. I don't think I have any shade of green in my fingers at all. I do not like being outdoors if it means I'm getting scratched or stung or prickled by various weeds when I try to pull them out. It's so demoralising to spend several hours weeding a border, only to see that the next time it rains, up the weeds pop again.
Mr Squidge keeps saying it looks lovely - really full borders. Thing is, I know what they're full of...
Perennial forget-me-not. You just can't get the roots out. The other year, I hoed all the tops off, hoping that would weaken the roots. Did it heck! I have a forest of the damn things behind the climbing frame this year...
Brambles. These I don't mind so much, as wild blackberries are always so full of flavour and we make a rather lovely blackberry wine with them. However, I don't want them everywhere.
Stingers. Sneaky little... You can guarantee they'll find the only bit of unprotected skin to leave their mark.
Bindweed. Just...ugh.
Grass. Not the lawn sort - the feathery kind that grows in-between everything and you can't get the roots out.
*sigh*
I do try. I dig and fork and pull and tug, but never seem to make an impression. Perhaps I just need to accept there'll be a certain amount of wildness in my garden and enjoy it anyway...
When it was first done, it looked amazing. After nearly fourteen years, it's in need of some TLC.
Thing is, I love my garden. I just don't like gardening.
I like being outdoors - preferably reading a good book in the shade or soaking up a few rays. I really envy people with lovely gardens. I know you have to put the effort in, but gardening just doesn't float my boat. I don't think I have any shade of green in my fingers at all. I do not like being outdoors if it means I'm getting scratched or stung or prickled by various weeds when I try to pull them out. It's so demoralising to spend several hours weeding a border, only to see that the next time it rains, up the weeds pop again.
Mr Squidge keeps saying it looks lovely - really full borders. Thing is, I know what they're full of...
Perennial forget-me-not. You just can't get the roots out. The other year, I hoed all the tops off, hoping that would weaken the roots. Did it heck! I have a forest of the damn things behind the climbing frame this year...
Brambles. These I don't mind so much, as wild blackberries are always so full of flavour and we make a rather lovely blackberry wine with them. However, I don't want them everywhere.
Stingers. Sneaky little... You can guarantee they'll find the only bit of unprotected skin to leave their mark.
Bindweed. Just...ugh.
Grass. Not the lawn sort - the feathery kind that grows in-between everything and you can't get the roots out.
*sigh*
I do try. I dig and fork and pull and tug, but never seem to make an impression. Perhaps I just need to accept there'll be a certain amount of wildness in my garden and enjoy it anyway...
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| Lilac and apple blossom at the end of my garden... |