Tag: flowers

Come into the garden, Maud…

Apologies for the dearth of posts this past week or so.

We’ve done a bit of travelling and are now heavily involved in a village event coming up at the end of May.

The weather here in Dorset is absolutely splendid and it’s wonderful to get out in the garden and soak up the sights and sounds. Flowers are bursting forth from lush green foliage, bees are buzzing and blackbirds are singing their dear little hearts out.

I made the mistake of watching some of the Chelsea Flower Show programmes on the BBC this week.

One was probably enough, to be honest.

I mean, I love seeing the incredible gardens and plants on display but there is only so much I can take of grinning presenters we are clearly meant to know (their names only appear in the credits at the end) and celebrities I have never heard of.

Grayson Perry described Chelsea along the lines of being Middle England’s ‘Glastonbury for people who wear linen’, and he’s not wrong.

There is no way I could cope with all those crowds. I get slight agoraphobia just by watching it on the telly.

So this spring bank holiday weekend, I’m looking forward to spending time in my own glorious garden -small but on the way to being perfectly formed – as the sun beats down from a clear blue sky.

Enjoy the weekend, where ever you are.

The arrival of Spring

There are rooks flapping overhead, twigs in their beaks and heading for nest-building central.

A pair of male blackbirds are sparring vigorously, spiralling in an upward and downward dance which goes unnoticed by drivers on their way to work and children who are late for school.

The daffodils and narcissi proclaim ‘we are here‘ and the tulips emerge from the soil, ready for their chance to shine further down the line.

In Lush Places, someone has mended the church clock. It’s been stuck at the same time for ages and its chiming of the hour has been a thing of the past.

But then, on Sunday morning, I passed by just as it struck nine o’clock. It was if I’d suddenly been hurled into the present, the bell an aural reminder of the arrival of Spring.

After a sunny day here yesterday, with garden clearing a priority before the waste bin is collected this morning, the weather has turned grey and dismal. A meh sort of day.

But still the blackbird sings his joyful and mellow song, ostensibly to impress potential lady friends but, in our world, causing us to stop, close our eyes and soak up the sounds of nature.

In the garden, the hellebores are doing their thing, which is truly wondrous.

How does your garden grow?

Well, the daffodils are poking their heads up but there’s no sign yet of the four-hundred-and-ten tulip bulbs my son and I planted a few months ago.

They were on offer and I got a bit carried away.

To be fair, mid-December was a bit late to be planting tulips but, by the time they’d arrived, I was out of the country for two weeks, so, other than asking the dogsitters if they fancied a bit of gardening (they didn’t), there wasn’t much choice.

I’m hoping the little blighters are happily in the warm earth, thinking about greeting the outside world when things are a bit warmer.

And, who knows, maybe by planting them so late, they’ll put on a brilliant show in late May when I’ll actually be around to appreciate them.

The problem is, I get carried away when I see adverts for plants and bulbs. That eternal prospect of a magical garden is just too tempting.

I’ve got carried away with dahlia tubers too. Don’t tell Mr Grigg but a whole load of them are about to arrive in the next week or so.

Still, if I stick to old favourites like roses, herbaceous perennials, along with the tulips and dahlias, and forego annuals, I should be all right.

It’s when I start ordering begonias that I have to worry.

Can’t stand them. They give me the creeps.

I’m not sure why, because some of them are very pretty. I think I was psychologically damaged when my older brother once broke the heads off my mother’s red begonias. The petals bled all over the floor.

There’s something fleshy and human about begonias I just don’t like.