The Inept Gardener
A bed full of potential
Describing my garden as anything other than ‘full of potential’ would be unwise and untruthful.
One reason why I started this blog was to break my addiction to my phone, but it seems to have quite the opposite effect.
I am scrolling Instagram and Pinterest accounts for all kinds of inspiration and information like never before.
However, I am learning so much about writing, photography, editing and Canva that I feel like I can, almost, justify it.
Before we had the garden transformed by installing the decking I did have a wonderful collection of climbing roses, which you will be surprised to learn, thrived. All but one were sacrificed in the name of progress and while I don’t regret that, I do miss having a dazzling show of David Austin roses scenting the air during spring and summer.
Views of my roses, in their glory days.
The remaining rose, named Crown Princess Margareta, is playing the archetypal princess trapped in a tower. She is surrounded by ivy and sour sobs and I’ve rather let her languish. She is in a raised garden bed next to our pond with an exquisite fountain in it. The rampant ivy does give a lush feel to the area, but it is greedy when it comes to space and I am sure that the fountain will look even lovelier framed by a yellow climbing rose given adequate space to flourish.
Rose Crown Princess Margareta in her glory.
In my defence though, is the fact that we have been talking for years about replacing the fence against which the garden bed sits, so I have been reluctant to invest much time or energy into creating something which will then need to be sacrificed during a construction phase.
Our exquisite fountain deserves an equally exquisite setting.
During my extensive ‘research’ I have found a garden creator on Instagram who is Australia based, so the content she produces is current to our seasons, hemisphere and climate. She has started a small urban flower farm and is urging people to have a go at growing their own flowers.
I’ve already successfully grown ivy, sour sobs, and an unidentified ferny, creepy, weedy thing, so how hard can flowers be?
The rose, Crown Princess Margareta is in there…somewhere.
In the spirit of adventure, I ordered some seeds to plant alongside the rose bush. Before I could sow them, however, I needed to clear some space. I had been meaning to do this for a couple of weeks, but a combination of busy weekends and inclement weather meant the task was repeatedly postponed. It is amazing what a looming writing deadline can achieve, though, and after work last night I found myself frantically pulling weeds and clearing at least some of the fallen leaves from the garden bed, such is my commitment to producing a credible ‘after’ photograph to accompany the ‘before’
The benefit of a rainy week has meant that the soil is lovely and ready for the seeds to be planted, so they have been sowed. I planted a creamy white nasturtium, deep blue cornflowers, and salmon pink ranunculi. It may be too late in the year to plant the ranunculi, but hope abounds.
During the frantic weeding session last night I happily discovered some Lambs Ear, that soft, velvety pale grey plant, as well as some catmint. I know from experience that these will grow like Topsy so I think that with little effort this little corner of the garden will look lovely in the warmer months.
The other plants that I have sowed in the large pots are growing well. There are some weeds that need to be pulled up, but I also scattered some poppy seeds in these pots, and until the true leaves emerge I am reluctant to pull up any new growth in case I leave a weed and destroy a wanted plant.
Whether any of these seeds germinate is a question for Future Suzanne. Present Suzanne is simply pleased to have exchanged scrolling for sowing, even if only for an afternoon.
And where there is hope, there is life. Where there is life, there is hope.
The possum has not been sighted for some time. This is either because he has moved on to greener pastures, or because he is lying low and allowing me to develop a false sense of security. Experience suggests the latter.
