The title of this post is superfluous. Once you read the post you will realise this, but I had to call it something. Didn't want to say, More About The Garden, lest you get the wrong idea. I am not the gardener in my family. I weed and water when I have to, fill the holes when things die (as they do) and enjoy sitting and admiring the view from the verandah. But anyway, this
is about the garden. Again. And the irises.
I was pretty damn excited when the first iris came out. So excited I took photos. This was impressive. And blue according to my mother, the expert, who dug up the bulbs from her garden and planted them in mine because she was selling her house and one day she would want to dig some up and replant in her new garden.
(I would call them mauve or lilac, but what do I know?)
Anyway, more have since bloomed in a range of colours. White and blush (to steal from Steel Magnolias) and apricot and deep purple. My mother has given me little plastic stakes with the colour written on them in texta--waterproof, I hope--and I have to stake them so she will know which colour she is digging up when the time comes for digging up. My mother is very organised and forward-thinking.
I was thinking she could probably dig them all if she wants. Because as lovely as they are, I've decided that they aren't really me or my garden. They're a bit like city sophisticates slumming it in the sticks. I'm more emotionally invested in my rosemary and lavender and hardy groundcovers--the seaside daisies and convolvulus with their pretty little flowers that don't wilt at the first sign of a heatwave and which survive drought and frost and rampaging dogs.
They're hardy beasts. Fighters. Survivors. I was going to say they're
me, but those descriptions aren't me. They are my gardening style, however, because of those very qualities.
How about you? Are you a gardener? If so, what is your style?
Labels: gardening, my everyday life
