Sunday, May 02, 2010

Another sign that I'm getting old

I've been spending a lot of time in the garden in the last couple of weeks. It's my first garden in a long time, and I have no idea what I am doing. I guess you just pick it up as you go along. We had no idea what plants were going to emerge this year but the previous occupants seem to have had a penchant for "cheerful" flowers (red tulips, daffodils etc). Sadly, a whole year of neglect has meant that a lot of the existing pots got full of weeds, so I've been replacing them and taken the opportunity to get some more exotic-looking things.

Gardening makes you hot and sweaty. It hurts your hands and your back. And it makes you a bit neurotic - I didn't used to even notice all the bird poo on the paving slabs, but since they've been redone, I take those black and white splashes as a personal affront. I like having the birds in the garden, but I wish they'd establish a proper toilet somewhere and stick to it. I've bought a scrubbing brush and started scrubbing it away. Is that over-the-top?

Still, once I'd finished planting and sweeping and scrubbing, I got out my table and chairs and had a big piece of cake in the garden while reading a magazine. And it suddenly seemed worth it. It's like having an extra room to your house, but with better lighting. And bird poo.

1 comment:

Lost Boy said...

The last time I had a garden was at university. Despite the fact that we had a perfectly serviceable patch of green which looked out over some woods, we roundly ignored it and allowed it to become wild, preferring instead to go 'up the Common' and drink pints and be seen by everyone. I did once try to hang out my washing in said garden but was confronted by a dead frog and an army of snails so rethought my plan