Wading through treacle

Oh, so there you are. Two days without news.  Well, frankly, it’s too hot to be out and creative.

And if I miss my early morning or evening slot, then it’s just too much like wading through treacle.

One morning it was an early hair dresser appointment and then a day in town. And this morning it was a very keen electrician wanting to install our errant pool part. At 8am.  We love M. Carriat. Keen as mustard.   But I lost my garden slot again.

I did manage to weed the thyme bank and mulch with grass cuttings.

But that was about it. I know in Britain it’s anathema to use grass cuttings as there is a fear of slime and nitrogen theft and all sorts of sharp intakes of breath. But here in the hot mountains our grass cuttings dessicate in no time.  And frankly, any mulch is good mulch.  There were gaps in between the thyme plants which had bare soil.

And I try as hard as I can not to have bare soil anywhere on these acres of garden.  I either plant so densely there is little room for weeds, or more often, I mulch.

The gold standard is the chipped chestnut and oak branches I create in winter and early spring.  But the chipper has been silent for weeks now. I must start again.  Grass cuttings are a poor second cousin to good brf (fresh wood chips).

But I haven’t even written ‘a good chipping session’ on my to do list. Too many landscaping projects are clammoring for my attention first.

At one stage today I felt so wan I just potted in the potting shed. Rearranging the plants that ought to be planted out.  But I’m resisting. It feels so cruel to be planting little grown from seed babies in this 30C heat.

And here’s a poorly staged shot. Flowers for the market tomorrow. My this week has flown.