We are now closer to the start of winter than we are to the end of summer, and just to prove the point wintery weather made its presence felt as if to taunt us like some kind of bully. “I know you don’t like me, but I just don’t care. And to show you how mean I am I’m going to throw a storm at you. So you better get used to it because you are about to step on my patch… na na nee na naaaa!”
Poor old autumn is just confused and bemused. He thought it was his turn and his leaves haven’t finished turning beautiful colours yet and they were being ripped from the trees by the big thug winter. He is so easily walked over by winter. I like autumn and can’t help but feel sorry for him.
Summer didn’t even care – despite our desperate longings for him to stick around as we cling tightly to anything that can remotely be claimed as warmth from the sunny season. Like trying to sniff perfume from a beloved guest who has long since left the room. Summer is long gone.
While the storm wasn’t devastating, it was still quite brutal with strong winds coming in sideways and rain so heavy it could saturate you with just a few drops. Needless to say, we didn’t go outside. I just stared out at the garden watching everything being blown this way and that and hoping for not too much damage.
Now the storm has passed I have been able to do a bit of damage control, between the showers. Although I did have to ask myself if it was the right thing to be out there in the aluminium framed greenhouse while thunder and lightning rumbled on in the distance.
The peas had blown over, but that was no surprise as they always blow over in the slightest of wind, and always after I have just decided they are looking really good. I love it when my peas are straight and tall and clinging to the trellis in an orderly way. Now they are all over the place – a tangled mess. I really should figure out a strong, sturdy system for them. But the thing is – I thought I had. This year is the strongest frame I’d constructed yet, but the storm proved too much.
In the face of all of this bleak weather, I took a stand against the future and spent some time dwelling in the possibility of spring. I planted some spring bulbs. Take that winter – I can see beyond you and it will be beautiful!
I normally plant my spring bulbs in buckets with holes drilled in the bottom, but Hubby the Un-Gardener hates it. He thinks they look messy and only look nice for about a week when flowering and then all the dying leaves are an eyesore. He clearly doesn’t have the heart of a gardener, with an anticipation of the delightful colour to break the gloom and signal a much more colourful world as spring gives way to summer and greyness is banished. He also completely misses that the dying leaves are storing goodness for the following year so we can rejoice in the coming of a new season even beyond a time we can only but imagine how much our lives will change. Gardens are able to offer us a sense of the eternal in the space of a moment. And so a short lived flower should be cherished.
So this time I invested in a long ‘proper’ container with which to nurture some tulip bulbs. I couldn’t help myself and bought some ranunculus as well, but only because they looked so pretty on the packet. Having said that I also have a large number of older bulbs that I recovered from some buckets that had seen better days and I guess I can give Hubby the Un-Gardener that point. But buckets are cheap, so I may need to pick up some fresh ones and grab the drill, all in the name of investing in a colourful future.
Come again soon – the dismal days are just beginning.
Sarah the Gardener : o )