That Gardening Bug

It's been the most perfect of days, for so many reasons. It was hot, and there was barely any wind, ideal conditions for gardening. Time didn't race away from me, but behaved in a leisurely way so that when it would have been 6pm on a normal day, it was still only 3pm. I achieved plenty, and only came in at 7.30 because I'd had a very light lunch and thought I should have supper before I went wobbily. What did I do? I cleaned out the summerhouse, washing windows, sweeping up winter insect detritus and cobwebs, and scrubbing the floor. The furniture went back in and immediately looked better. I've also now power-hosed the two terraces by the house as well as the lower concrete area. I've made inroads into the bench, and when it's been completely stripped of lichen I'll smear on some teak oil. I'm thinking of getting Handiman Joe up to paint the garage. The stuff we used a couple of years ago was a mistake, a sort of acrylic paint that has since been baked off in strips by the hot sun. I'll use a more absorbable paint next time.

Newly scarified lawn

The bottom bed, under control at last

Everything in order

Pond growth developing

Azalea and rhododendrons just showing red

Coming along

Dahlia tubers in their nursery

Everything neat and tidy at last

 The Green Thumb men came to scarify the lawn, and when they left I put the sprinkler on to give it a drink. I completely re-did the long path down the side of the garden, raking up the bark and laying a strong weed suppressant material along its whole length. With the bark back in place and all the weeds gone it looked very smart. I then repaired the line of bricks that separates the main bed from this path, and hoed around generally. I mended the path I built beside the pond, and then weeded the older path that I built in front of the summerhouse a couple of years ago. I ended up by watering everything. Best of all, and I mean best of everything, has been watching the potted dahlias put out shoots. The 19 pots have been in the summnerhouse for several weeks now after wintering in the garage, and they've been revelling in the heat and shelter. Several times a day I've anxiously stared at them looking for little shoots, holding up each one under my nose and searching for the tiniest hint of new growth. The score so far is 15 on the way and four without any shoots, yet. I'm hopeful they've all survived. This is the last time they'll be lifted for the winter, and that was only because they weren't yet in their permanent positions. Now that I'm sure of where they'll go they can stay there until they need to be divided.

A happy, happy day. Hugo plodded around after me in the heat, getting up every time I moved to  follow me. We played with his squeaky ball for a while, and he flew around the grass in mad circles. But he soon tires of this game. At 5pm I took him to Pound Farm, and he worked off all that excess energy chasing other dogs. He could barely catch his breath by the time we got to the car, but I knew he had enjoyed himself. It's funny, but no matter how absorbed I am in other things I never begrudge him these outings. He's loyalty personified to me. The least I can do is return it.