Welcome to amateur garden hour. This is a one-stop shop (vom) for anyone who doesn’t know what the fuck they’re doing and doesn’t mind getting their hands dirty as long as there are no spiders involved.
Do I have a relaxed attitude towards gardening? Yes. Do I have a solid track record of killing houseplants. Sure. Am I crap at almost every other type of craft going? Most definitely. Luckily, if you, as I do, prefer your nature to be more on the wilder side of ‘I don’t know what that is and I’m worried it will kill the cat’, then my garden is literally the perfect space to work in. Also, you can eat half the stuff in it.
After a quick trip to B&Q, where I accidentally spent half a month’s mortgage on gardening kit without even buying a barbecue, we were all set. R set about power-washing the terrace like an out-of-work ghostbuster and I started digging out 3 tons of wood chip and weeds so we can get some new plants in. The plan is to design a garden that’s capable of attracting so many bees that eventually they take over the nearby playground and field, and the whole area has to be given conservation / protected status. So all the plants we’ve chosen are bee friendly and very, very colourful. I don’t know how many of them will come up this year though, so we might grow a bunch of spinach and artichokes before then.
We also spent some time hacking back and digging up the overgrown area near the northwest path. That’s right – my garden is so frickin huge we have a northwest path. We also have a west path and a northeast path. That’s it though. Part of this digging meant slightly disturbing an old murder scene,and one of Errol’s primary investigation sites. He wasn’t super keen on us trampling the evidence (it wasn’t his murder, he’s just the case officer), but if he hasn’t solved it by now he never will.
I’m still operating with a busted shoulder, by the way, which makes gardening super fun. The random screaming has really added something to the ambient backdrop of birdsong and gently rustling leaves. Wearing shoes for more than an hour at a time for the first time in weeks has also been interesting. They’re only sandals and R is also concerned that I’m going to chop my toes off, but wearing sneakers in 23c heat seems ridiculous and anyway he wears shoes and socks to the beach so I don’t think this is my problem.
I’ll let you know how beemageddon goes.