Busy. I have been spending too much time away from my favourite place. The potting shed.
It’s prime real estate right now. And I promise to give you a quick tour.
[Argh, and I realise that you have seen all these pictures last month! I do apologise. I am acutely aware that I have not written for weeks.]
Here was the reason for the delay in writing this month. Two sets of house guests visiting.
And then a trip back to Girona with family.
I’ve never been there in Spring. We usually nip down in January when the sun is shining but it’s still chill.
This trip – sun hats and hiding from the heat. Utter bliss. Well it would have been utter bliss if I wasn’t still using a crutch to get around with my torn knee ligaments. Golly they are slow to mend.
I did get the delight of visiting my favourite small garden which was redolent with orange blossom.
The scent was trapped in by the massive stone walls.
But here is the smaller version of bliss.
Complete with orange blossom from my small trees.
You have to edge your way in very carefully right now.
The cat has been relegated to one small cashmere-lined crate. And she will merrily step all over the seedlings if I show her any attention. (Boy, do I shriek. She always seems to aim for the basil.)
Instead I tend to race in when she is out mousing. And then water like mad.
The best thing this year is the extension on the outside of the north side of the shed.
I have been able to harden off the plants without any trip hazards. In previous years they were just placed all over the gravel paths nearby and it was a hideous assault course to get into the shed.
All the healthy plants were shoved outside while I was away.
And with a teensy bit of rain one of the days, I even had a cheats watering system. Mother Nature.
We are in a drought here. All water restrictions in place months earlier than last year’s drought. So thank goodness we put in those extra water tanks for our still flowing underground spring.
It’s all ready to plant out now.
Cue endless trudging back and froth from the potting shed at the far west end of the farm with armfuls of seedlings heading to the potager. Limping merrily.