Monday, 10 September 2012

Next year's flowers.

We have strayed into next Spring already. The sacks of daffodils and bags of tulip bulbs have arrived at the garden centre already.



I have washed the pots ready for planting up but the cheap side of me is waiting for late deals in tulips. The bulbs can be planted from now till as late as Christmas by which time the garden centres should have reduced the price significantly. If your bulbs are going into the beds and borders (or those sweet little crocus bulbs, into the lawn) then it makes sense to plant them up before the stiff cold winds and freezing temperatures make planting into the ground a chore. Nothing wants to have to start it's journey from bulb to flower in a cold, unyielding soil. But if you are planting bulbs into compost then it will be perfectly acceptable to plant much later than normal. The good thing about pots, as I've said before, is that you can place them wherever you need the colour and that's not always apparent when planting bulbs. A couple of cheery pots framing the front door is always a welcome sight after a long winter and I love to plant two different colours (black and white or purple and orange sound as if they will jar but in fact work well together) or the same shade but different shapes (fringed and fluted or neatly shaped petals alongside the flamboyance of parrot tulips make for an interesting display). So, with a spare few bob, there's a world of possibilities at your fingertips.

I shall be waiting for the sales, I calculated that I have spent almost £400 this summer alone on the garden. I shan't consider myself a proper gardener until I am penny pinching and growing things from seed in my own compost and leaf mould. All things Nature readily gives us for free and it seems silly to pay so much once the garden is established (but so easy to do when seduced by a colourful beauty you feel you have to have - I wanted this plant in my garden but resisted - blimey, what's come over me?)



Like turf over grass seed, it is lovely to be able to occasionally overspend in order to get instant results but gardening is a patience game; to every thing there is a season. To truly enjoy the garden I would love to be able to work with it and it teaches me valuable lessons in life. Lessons like accepting failure when my lovingly clipped box topiary, just forming a beautiful border around the herbs, developed box blight. Ingenuity when something obviously ailing in one spot can be transferred to delight again in the right conditions. Lessons such as you get out what you put in, that nothing lasts forever and that each small kindness (a drop of water on a hot day) will probably be repaid by a cheerful flower head later on. But I'm running away with myself, whatever you get out of gardening, whether it's a lone pot on a windowsill or an expanse of lawn to play ball with the children on you will usually get much more pleasure out of it than the effort it took in the first place. That's my theory anyway.



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