Word pictures

Rats. My camera lens refuses to work.  I had hoped that a brief overnight rest would restore it to an open and shut case.  But the camera is going to need more than just hope to get it to function. I think it’s going to need technical intervention. And that doesn’t happen out here in the middle of La France Profonde.

So I am forced to paint word pictures today instead.

Nineteen large eragrostis curvula grasses transplanted to the lawn bank.  All perennials cut back in the terrace bank above the potting shed, the herb garden, the barn garden beds, the verbenas behind the miscanthus, and the painful strawberry bed.

And I weeded the rest of the hedge, cut back all the marjoram and repaired the cold frame lid.

One small paragraph to describe about eleven hours of work. Toil. And with the added thrill of slight sunburn.  I was in heaven.

Well, it wasn’t what I was saying as I sat in among the verbenas in the strawberry bed. I encountered playful quantities of stinging nettles and small brambles as I tried to cut back the stalks, and was frankly alarmed by the weeds.  I could barely see the strawberries (hence the name).  It is going to take some serious work to restore it to anything like its former glory. Plus mulch.

Argh, don’t mention the word. I am mulched out this week.

So I just cut everything back and left the major weeds. There’s no point weeding thoroughly if I can’t sort it out at once.  Besides, I had so much more to do.  Especially moving the grasses.

And planting the rosemaries in the spaces where the grasses came from. And, and, and.

Word pictures are not as exciting as Before and After shots and thrilling bits of landscaping.

I think I’ll end here and write out my list for the morrow. I think they are forecasting rain, or drizzle, so that will force me into the potting shed to sow more seeds, prick out the germinated ones from last week and generally get everything ready for the next surge of growth.