Saturday, May 26, 2007

Late Spring Weeding

The predicted "cold" snap finally arrived this morning. I know this because I woke up feeling a bit chilly a little after 7. Ohh, a lie in! And no dawn chorus to distract me from zeds. Last Saturday of the month is Bakewell farmers' market; sausages, eggs, rye bread, a savoy cabbage, chickens, a coffee in the restaurant above the town's permanent farmers' market, and a tour of the knicky-knacky-noo crap that seems to fill the place. I love it. I got up and did the early morning rounds, opening doors and pulling back curtains, letting light into my sleepy household. I love the sound of brass curtain rings being pulled back across their pole; announcing the start of the day. Looking out from beloved first-born's bedroom windows the sky looked dull white and overcast, and I really couldn't be bothered with the early drive. Besides, the garden looks a fright. I gave the clematis armandii on the north-facing border a severe prune during the week, and left the evidence all over the paths to dry out and collapse a little. This makes it easier to haul over to the compost bins. I'd also gone over all the early weeds and left them in piles too. Then there were the flopping, spent, cream coloured leaves of the spring bulbs to pull up, the menace that are sweet violets self-seeded all through the terraced paving stones... mess, mess, mess.
By half past nine the garden looked sweet and ordered, quite empty really, as I'd got a bit carried away by the time I reached some five year old rosemary bushes and hard pruned them to mere shadows of their former selves. Standing back I had to laugh; if they survive this, they'll survive anything.

Some toasted rye bread for brekkie and another cup of tea and I was back at it. The stocks I sowed in the early spring really should have been in by now, so they went in underneath and around the stepover apple, Sunset, and around the top terrace. The nasturtiums, Black Velvet and Maharajah Mix, went in around the greenery of the iris, bay and rosemary beds. And some wheat seeds I sowed in February went in in clumps all over the garden. This will look stunning, and as soon as they ripen into ears, likely to be towards the end of July, I'll take some pictures.

A quick walk to collect the Saturday paper, then back in time for Saturday Kitchen. And then the rain started. Truly, I must have done something wonderful in a past life to deserve all this contentment.

No comments: