I had a garden last year. It was beautiful. Young, not perfect, but a lovely place to slip out to in the early morning before the girls were awake, and a peaceful spot to sit in once they were settled at night. And an excellent spot to eat lunch in and not have to worry about crumbs.
I had plans this year. And good intentions. A spot of early pruning (thanks, Dad), some early spring planting (thanks, Grannie), and some vaguely defined plans. And then it rained. And then the Wahooligan came, and life got busy, and then we went on holiday, and then the Wahooligan returned, and suddenly my lawn was 4 foot high in places and the thought of doing anything to it was a little overwhelming and definitely not a priority.
And then along came Mum with their superduper lawn mower, and we went from this
to thisand from this
Thanks Mum! And thanks, Dad, for strimming too.
It's a long way off perfect or even good enough yet. There's hours of weeding to do, and a fair bit of planting up too. But it's manageable now, and that's what we needed.
A gardening question - why has my apple tree not blossomed yet?
A gardening note: throwing mouldy and sprouting vegetables into the compost bin and then letting the wind blow the lid off and let the elements in has its good points - we now have a crop of potatoes and celery blooming nicely in the compost bin. This is not wholly good though - we now have a large and growing mound of compost where the mint used to be (self seeded, beside the compost bin), in order not to suffocate the potato plant. It's all very well saying leave it undisturbed until September, but...
And in unrelated news, Little Fish has today been practicing her quiet voice very happily, and ate three pieces of asparagus for tea. Hurrah.