After years of one crocus at a time I finally have abundance!
From Monday evening it rained for three days - we got just under three inches of rain just how we like it, nice and slowly.
There is nothing better than lying in bed listening to it on the roof, at least until a new leak shows up – will have to get up there again with the silicone.
This morning the sun came out and revealed a green haze of winter grass which had been happily germinating through those rainy days.
From Easter lilies and the first autumn crocus that pops up to whatever comes last in the garden in spring, I love them all.
I think it’s the surprise factor of something that pops up where there was nothing before.
The other day whilst harvesting goji berries, I heard a little croak, the first all year. I had just about given up on frogs. Last year I’d brought in a few more tadpoles from a local waterhole but hadn’t seen any sign of them since.
At the end of March each year I remove the cover from the pond so I can see lovely reflections of the sky etc. I have to have the cover on over summer or I lose too much water through evaporation, but it looks ugly, and I’m happy when it comes off. However this is the sight that greeted me:
For over a year I have battled algae and plants which like to take over, and decided some months ago that when the cover came off again, I would have to pretty much start from scratch.
So this morning I wrestled with this awful grassy thing which forms big mats and cuts your hands to ribbons, and it is out! That big clump of sedge I will pull out and plant next to the pond, and the water irises will be repotted, I’ll have lots left over to give away if anyone wants any. I used to have purple and yellow water irises but the purple seems to have dominated the yellow ones and I haven’t seen one for a while.
I have come in for lunch and am tired – I think I might have to continue tomorrow!
Nearly five years have passed since I planted my goji berry bush. .Although it is a close relation of the African Boxthorn, which people around here curse, it comes from the Himalayas and is not as vigorous where I live.
The tag had a lovely picture of mountains on it and I decided I would plant it for Edi, who had at that time had ‘not long to go’. After saying goodbye to him on the 6th May 2009, I wanted to plant it then and there, but made myself wait until I’d heard of his death. When the headlines came on I would look at the TV for some strange reason, half expecting to hear it there. But it was after dark by the time the doctor phoned.
Next morning, my first morning as a widow, in it went. Later on I found out that it prefers shade – oh well! Finally we are getting good fruit from it. Each one I eat I think of all the lovely vitamins it is said to have.
It’s a over a month since the big rain, and plants are starting to look thirsty again, although there are some exceptions like this lovely deep blue plumbago, which always looks best as summer goes into autumn. It is a pretty hardy plant when it comes to heat but it hates frost, so I have had to plant it in sheltered places in my garden.
It’s been a funny season so far, one month of autumn has already gone, but I have not had that lovely autumn mood that I usually love. I’m supposed to fall in love with this place all over again, and not be able to get enough of that lovely autumn light. I have been wondering why, and I think it is a combination of a few things, the weather for one, has been too hot or too cold to make it feel like autumn. I have also been rather busy traipsing all over the countryside taking my kids to mainly swimming-related things. And the third is that my autumn crocuses are late.
Many years we’ve had rain bang on the end of February, which has made the autumn crocus emerge a couple of days into March. Our rain was two weeks early, so the crocuses in my garden are late this year. One is only just unfurling now.
It’s been nearly three weeks since the 45mm rain, and so I have been out watering this morning. In between hose-moves I’ve sat in the old swing chair that belonged to my grandmother, which is by the shed.
Before we built the house Edi and I with our three littlies sat here every morning, and had a cup of coffee and biscuits, while gazing out over the range. There was not much to look at in the garden back then.
Since we moved here 5 1/2 years ago I have hardly used this swing chair, so when I do it’s like a trip back in time, and I can see how much the garden has progressed. The plants that is, on my behalf the area is suffering from serious neglect and needs a revamp.
Autumn brings us endless sunshine with more gentle temperatures, and the caterpillars begin to march in long lines across the dirt roads around here. I try to avoid them, but this morning there was one lot stretched across the entire road when I took the kids to school.
Birds seem busier; crows caw, magpies warble and eagles soar while sparrows flit about. I don’t see them much in summer, and that could be because I’m in hiding, or perhaps they are too.
Leyla the 15-year-old cat has come to join me here on this chair as I try to write my ‘Nanobook’, a novel I started last November (National Novel Writing Month). The words are not coming very easily.
One thing I have no trouble writing is my journal, which is an extended version of this blog, or rather, this blog is a snippet of my journal. I started three months after Edi died and so far I have filled eleven 128 page notebooks with my scrawly writing – I’ve had lots to chronicle. That’s about three 80-90,ooo word books. Come on publishing houses – these books will help lots of people through a lot of crap! Don’t make me self-publish them!