Wednesday 23 January 2008

Garden Tour Part 1

I've wanted to show you our garden for a while now. A dear friend reminded me the other day to still stop and smell the roses in between all the busy-ness of having a business at home and a family to rear. I had recently been out to take photos of the garden, walking through the "lanes" and "arbours", "tunnels" and "walks". Quite timely to put them here for you to see.

One of several plum trees. I planted these trees in such haste on a drizzly September day, that I forgot to take note of each species. There are multiple lists of plantings in my "Garden" folder, all smudgy and muddy, and I'm supposed to know each of them, but if I don't keep the lable, I'm lost. Both of my daughters and the Machinist have this thing about keeping lables on any type of merchandise. They say it's uncouth and looks dastardly. I'm mindful of this, and was obviously super mindful of this when I planted multiple trees several years ago. Dork.

This is one of the white grapes, interplanted with a fennel, which has gone to seed. I love it when plants go to seed. Except weeds. I planted one red grape bush, one white grape bush. One red grape bush, one white grape bush - all along the pathway which runs the length of the Workshop. The fennel plant just sprung up out of nowhere. I didn't PUT it there. It just grew. I really like the way it look, though. And the way it smells. Each time I use the side door I can't help plucking some of the ferny-type of leaves from the thick stems and rubbing them between my fingers. Reminds me of Bassets Licorice Allsorts...

Aaaah... Our very first season of pears! I had promised the two pear trees (a pair of pears), that if they didn't fruit this year (almost 10 years of my patience!), up they come. Obviously, they listened, and although there are only a few pears, there are - well - still pears. And I love them for it...

Here's where the grapes entangle themselves with the damsons. Whispy rogue tendrils wrap themselves around the damson branches before I can stop them and train them to take another route. The damsons don't seem to mind, though. Maybe they like the cuddles?

Faithful, oh so faithful quinces! How I appreciate thee... By the way, your jelly is scrumptious. Maybe not so sweet next time.

I well remember the day I prepped and prepared the herb garden. Barrows full of festy manure and loads of flies buzzing around my head and sweat pouring down my back and a hot, red face. I hate sweating. After a fortnight, (time enough for the amonia to break down), I planted seedlings of all the culinary herbs we use in the kitchen. The Machinist had cut several 10cm pieces of white polypipe to surround the herbs (so the snails wouldn't get at them). They took ages to actually look like they would survive. Probably because I over watered them on a regular basis. As you can see, survive, they did!

I don't know the name of this shrub and I planted three of them - very close together. They are so huge now, that they are competing with the rambling roses, to grow up and drape themselves over the arbor. Each morning, on his way to work, the Machinist has to walk sideways down "Rose Tunnel", as to avoid the onslought. Especially when it has been raining. He's wet through by the time he gets to work (less than a one minute walk), and contemplates returning to the house to change into something dry. (yeah, right) Other mornings, unidentified spiders have spun their webs and whoever passes through first, fights their way forward, arms outstretched bearing imaginary Panga knives, akin to those used by Dr Livingstone.

Another faithful "giver". The trusty crab apple tree, shown here in the forground with pink rambling roses to the side, and monstrous rhubarbe leaves in the background. Oh Crab Apple, you taste delicious in sweet and sour chutney.

Green plums. When can you tell if they are ripe?

More on the tour later....

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