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A Feast of Weeds
I barely lurk in Cyberia at all these days. Not even on Twitter. Even then it is usually to catch up on and of course snaffle the latest David Rowe masterpiece.
Even with the official release of the evil nasty witchy Mueller report about to land within the day, I hardly ever bother to visit the rants and ravings of the Dark Lord of Twitter these days. To some extent this had been due to a whole bunch of offline dramas and anniversaries, but also I suspect a large part in that I have solved the problem of dealing with my own Donald by simply divorcing him. It is two months now and I do not miss him one bit. I guess he will be expecting me to turn up with some Easter eggs on Sunday. But he will be waiting a long long time before that happens.
Now that I no longer have a walking talking simmering pot of polonium tea in my own life, I guess I no longer need to know how to deal with the other one that the rest of the world and the USA in particular has in theirs. I'm still stalking on the sidelines but I no longer have the emotional attachment that I used to.
I decided that it makes more sense to focus on the things I want in my life and not the things I do not want. And what this serpent wants is lots and lots of gorgeous greenery and trees.
Lest week the annual Garden Festival was on from Thursday until Sunday. This is the perfect opportunity for buying lots of local weeds because all the native nurseries turn up. Since most of them are a long way out of town far beyond the reach of a broomstick, this is the perfect opportunity to pig out on plants.
It was still sad to turn up without Petunia as my partner in crime. She loved the festival even more than I do and had taken to visiting it twice each year since it moved to its new location ten minutes down the road from Number 4 Privet Drive.
Last year I spent most of the time at the festival hiding under the gorgeous Moreton Bay fig trees and crying my eyes out. Petunia had died only 3 weeks previously and all the memories of all those times going to the garden show together and knowing that she never would again, were just too painful and overwhelming.
But now I have had a whole year to get used to her absence and it has become part of the background rather than the main event of my life.
I have also decided that the best way to honour her memory is to get myself a pair of green thumbs. That is one thing about gardening. There is no need to rush out and buy lots of tools and toys, weeds and seeds. It’s all trial and error and you learn by doing and by going on long walks and snaffling cuttings from gardens on the streets. Especially succulents. You really have to make a special effort to kill those little critters.
This time the organisers of the show had the decency not to put the evil orange Stihl chainsaw display stall right at the entrance. Last year I got a show bag from them buggers which included an orange hat with STIHL embroidered on it. Of course I gave it to the Grinch but he did not realise that I was totally taking the piss. And that was even before he contracted out the chain saw massacre of Privet Drive last year.
This year I was more clear headed than last and had a grand plan. Pottering around looking at the assorted stalls in the morning with special attention paid to the native nurseries followed by attending some of the gardening talks, a leisurely lunch under the shade of the magnificent Moreton Bay fig trees and finishing the day with a shopping spree at the assorted nurseries buying tube stock of banksias, grevilleas, acacias and all the sorts of gorgeous weeds that black cockatoos and other local wild life love to feast on.
That way I would not be lugging around stuff any longer than absolutely necessary.
So I kept to the plan and left at closing time with 20 precious leaf babies in tube stock pots.
I came back the next day and did the same again but this time added 6 chilis plants to the shopping list. They go dormant this time of year. Well they used to before the weather started to get all weird. Now you can see basil growing quite happily in the middle of winter.
Of course I ended up buying more weeds than I really have room for. But there is a whole verge with lots of space for pretty little pots and now is the best time for planting because we get the autumn rains
I did break the rule that I should not buy any plant unless I have already dug and prepared the hole for it first.
All of the chilis and one banksia are already lurking happily in their new home and tomorrow I intend to get at least a dozen plants in the ground.
The true test of success of course is to see how many of them are still alive this time next year. I think last year’s success rate is just over 50% which is pretty sad but then again I was very distracted this time last year with Dursley dramas. I guess I should not have been so greedy buying all those weeds.
Now there are no distractions so there is no excuse whatsoever for a failure rate of anything over 10%
Even with the official release of the evil nasty witchy Mueller report about to land within the day, I hardly ever bother to visit the rants and ravings of the Dark Lord of Twitter these days. To some extent this had been due to a whole bunch of offline dramas and anniversaries, but also I suspect a large part in that I have solved the problem of dealing with my own Donald by simply divorcing him. It is two months now and I do not miss him one bit. I guess he will be expecting me to turn up with some Easter eggs on Sunday. But he will be waiting a long long time before that happens.
Now that I no longer have a walking talking simmering pot of polonium tea in my own life, I guess I no longer need to know how to deal with the other one that the rest of the world and the USA in particular has in theirs. I'm still stalking on the sidelines but I no longer have the emotional attachment that I used to.
I decided that it makes more sense to focus on the things I want in my life and not the things I do not want. And what this serpent wants is lots and lots of gorgeous greenery and trees.
Lest week the annual Garden Festival was on from Thursday until Sunday. This is the perfect opportunity for buying lots of local weeds because all the native nurseries turn up. Since most of them are a long way out of town far beyond the reach of a broomstick, this is the perfect opportunity to pig out on plants.
It was still sad to turn up without Petunia as my partner in crime. She loved the festival even more than I do and had taken to visiting it twice each year since it moved to its new location ten minutes down the road from Number 4 Privet Drive.
Last year I spent most of the time at the festival hiding under the gorgeous Moreton Bay fig trees and crying my eyes out. Petunia had died only 3 weeks previously and all the memories of all those times going to the garden show together and knowing that she never would again, were just too painful and overwhelming.
But now I have had a whole year to get used to her absence and it has become part of the background rather than the main event of my life.
I have also decided that the best way to honour her memory is to get myself a pair of green thumbs. That is one thing about gardening. There is no need to rush out and buy lots of tools and toys, weeds and seeds. It’s all trial and error and you learn by doing and by going on long walks and snaffling cuttings from gardens on the streets. Especially succulents. You really have to make a special effort to kill those little critters.
This time the organisers of the show had the decency not to put the evil orange Stihl chainsaw display stall right at the entrance. Last year I got a show bag from them buggers which included an orange hat with STIHL embroidered on it. Of course I gave it to the Grinch but he did not realise that I was totally taking the piss. And that was even before he contracted out the chain saw massacre of Privet Drive last year.
This year I was more clear headed than last and had a grand plan. Pottering around looking at the assorted stalls in the morning with special attention paid to the native nurseries followed by attending some of the gardening talks, a leisurely lunch under the shade of the magnificent Moreton Bay fig trees and finishing the day with a shopping spree at the assorted nurseries buying tube stock of banksias, grevilleas, acacias and all the sorts of gorgeous weeds that black cockatoos and other local wild life love to feast on.
That way I would not be lugging around stuff any longer than absolutely necessary.
So I kept to the plan and left at closing time with 20 precious leaf babies in tube stock pots.
I came back the next day and did the same again but this time added 6 chilis plants to the shopping list. They go dormant this time of year. Well they used to before the weather started to get all weird. Now you can see basil growing quite happily in the middle of winter.
Of course I ended up buying more weeds than I really have room for. But there is a whole verge with lots of space for pretty little pots and now is the best time for planting because we get the autumn rains
I did break the rule that I should not buy any plant unless I have already dug and prepared the hole for it first.
All of the chilis and one banksia are already lurking happily in their new home and tomorrow I intend to get at least a dozen plants in the ground.
The true test of success of course is to see how many of them are still alive this time next year. I think last year’s success rate is just over 50% which is pretty sad but then again I was very distracted this time last year with Dursley dramas. I guess I should not have been so greedy buying all those weeds.
Now there are no distractions so there is no excuse whatsoever for a failure rate of anything over 10%