First garden day

Oh this is heavenly. I know I’m not meant to gush endlessly… but I’m having a great day.   A full on gardening day.

It’s mild and still and every time I look up I get views of valleys and hills and village.   St Michel in the distance. The horse at my side and trying to get at my pockets.   I decided to start off by doing what all plants need most.   Compost.   So down to the lower terraces (with plenty of apples in my pockets so I don’t get run over by a frisky stallion) and out with the disposable gloves and a bucket.   I’m simultaneously collecting fresh stuff and hauling out the year old gold.

Ulysse is the perfect horse as he tends to poop in the same spot. Bless.   Makes life much easier, I can tell you.

I have used most of the first two wheelbarrows worth (don’t worry, it’s light and not a strain on the back, despite having to wheel it 300 metres on an uphill slope) on the hedge up at the potting shed.

This hedge gets more attention than just about any area in the garden (apart from the two large vegetable beds).   And I wouldn’t lavish so much except that it’s in the interests of neighbourly relations.   My potting shed is an eyesore, especially in winter.   And if I can get these little hedges growing away life will be happier all round.   There are now 27 small shrubs on the top side near the road, and 21 on the down side.

I’ve just put in five more rose rugosa plants.   Manure galore, mulching, weeding, even the dread bonemeal which I rarely use.   My soil is exceptionally free draining and thin.   And I’m going to need a tractor load of manure to get these beasts growing well.   But the bit I have done is fine and I’m happy.

Next up will be the last of the box balls to complete the little display in the bed under the wisteria.   I struggled for years to try and grow anything under this thick white wisteria.   It is deeply shaded in summer, east facing, and dry as can be.

So I gave in and planted box balls and mulched with home shredded sticks. But I was four short.   Artur is modelling himself in the area right now. But you can see the four paler green plants at the back.   Softies. They are grown at the huge plant nursery down on the Rhone river.   They will have to toughen up.

Planting them wasn’t easy. I had to dodge around the tulips that are already here, and dig out some mighty stones. And then they had to be exactly straight. And I’m talking straight both ways – these plants are going to take years to knit together. If at all.

Next up was a quick planting of the three phlomis purpurea in the shade garden.   This was a mad purchase at the nursery; but the flowers and the form are great. In fact the only reason it was a mad purchase is I’m trying so hard to take cuttings from my existing single plant. So call me greedy. And impatient. And the flowers are divine. Fleeting but exquisite.

I did another zip down to the manure heap which I can happily say is now empty. Minus the fresh stuff I just added.   And then had to decide what to do: clean the potting shed, pester Artur who had taken up residence in the potting shed again? Or start weeding.

I did neither. I kept planting.   The euphorbias in the potting shed – collected from all parts of the garden as they self sow so brilliantly – were getting thirsty.   So I decided to put them in a tidy little heap outside the potting shed in among festuca plants.

And I was musing about this fantastic lull.   I can dig the soil, plant like mad and not have to fret about weeds.   But boy do I need to mulch and save these newly planted treasures from the invading unwanted weeds.   I’m going to start fantasizing about trailer loads of mulch again. I just can’t make it fast enough. And I’m going to be haunting roadside municipal workers this spring.   Where do they take all their chippings? I must ask the mayor on Friday night at the village meeting.   I could easily use a few tonnes.

And on that note it’s back in to feed the fire and start my indoor work.