The Inept Gardener

Part 4

Progress continues. Against all odds

I know that last time I wrote about my sporadic foray into the world of gardening, I said I was going to plant my bulbs that weekend.

I didn’t.

The weekend turned out to be busier than anticipated, and these bulbs needed to be soaked, planted, and watered in—all of which felt a little too… involved at the time.

I am happy to report that the first batch was eventually planted on Sunday, April 12. I read the instructions on the back of the packet (a rare and noteworthy event) and soaked the corms for about an hour.

In summary:
10 anemones
10 ranunculi
10 grape hyacinths
A small scattering of poppy seeds

The second batch went in on ANZAC Day, and the final lot is scheduled for mid-May. My hope is that this staggered approach will prolong the show of colour in the garden, though time will tell if this was strategy… or optimism.

A small but significant win: I remembered that although we’d had rain earlier in the week, there hadn’t been any for a few days. So I did the responsible thing and watered the garden.

I was rewarded with the sight of the first grape hyacinth shoots—just ten days after planting. A few days later, while watering again (go me), I spotted the ranunculus and anemones emerging, along with the tiniest poppy leaves.

Look! I did a thing! Green shoots of Grape Hyacinths giving me undeniable proof of life. Now the pressure is really on to keep them alive.

I am very pleased indeed.

While op-shopping with a friend, I also snagged a bag of entirely unlabelled bulbs, which I am optimistically choosing to believe are jonquils. I planted those as well, entrusting them to a raised garden bed beneath an ornamental pear tree.

The tree, meanwhile, is doing its level best to shed every last leaf. While this is, admittedly, a magnificent sight, it does result in a rather enthusiastic accumulation of leaf litter. Positioned as it is beneath the canopy, the bed also receives very little of the rain when it falls—most of it intercepted above, in what I can only assume is a deliberate act.

I must remember to clear the fallen leaves and water more deeply.

I do have a lavender plant on the front veranda, which is contributing enormously to the faded English charm of my little vignette. However, unless I repot and water it, it will soon become genuinely faded—and considerably less charming.

My charming vignette is relying on my unreliable memory to keep it looking fresh and un-crispy.

There is also a little room in one of our enormous blue pots where I could plant some English spinach. We use spinach several times a week as the token greenery in our dinners, and it would be deeply satisfying to pick it fresh rather than play refrigerator roulette and inevitably uncover a bag of something… unspeakable.

The possum has been suspiciously quiet.

It must be plotting.