This week has been beautiful so far. We had such glorious sunshine that it made me leave my procrastination station and got me out in the garden for a while.
After I’d eased myself into pottering mode with a coffee Mike asked me if I was planning on doing any planting.
“Could do,” I shrugged, non-committally.
At which point Cait walked in as if right on cue with a handful of bills, junk mail, a car tax renewal and a box of geranium plugs from Thompson and Morgan.
And the “Could do,” changed to “Will do.”
So I set to planting them up, along with Calendula and Salpiglossis which I had already started, and two different varieties of zinnia which I hadn’t started off but sowed directly into pots at the last minute.
You see, there isn’t very much of the garden which I can protect from the children and the chickens. That is children and chickens in no particular order. I think we have equal quantities of both, unless I’ve miscounted the chickens. Or the children.
Anyway, I yearn for a tiny part of our war-torn-country like garden to look pretty and productive and just, well, pretty.
And the only way I think I can do it is by planting in containers. So that’s what I did. Or at least that’s what I’ve tried to do. Whether it will be a successful venture is something which remains to be seen.
In the meantime I took a closer look at what was showing signs of success.
Tiny little plums (plumlets?) were trying to hide…
Subtle changes to only a couple of weeks ago but what promise they show.
