My favourite winter job in the garden is MULCHING. Just the word is delightful. Like squelching, but warmer and snugglier.
The cutting patch was carted off in a wheelbarrow in October. The bright border went out with a bang in November. But the rose garden has partied on, owning the dancefloor into December.
I am a ‘colour pop’ kind of a girl. But occasionally, with a light frost, I am forced to focus on the neutrals. With the aid of my new book all about colour, I can now distinguish my buff from my fawn!
The day didn’t start off promisingly. Rather than a luminous dawn, it was murky and dank. I awoke to the drip-drip of rain coming in through the leaky bedroom window. Even the dogs were unenthusiastic about going out into the garden. This bench has never looked less inviting. No one wants to come out…
Autumn is frippery and frills. Autumn is gewgaws and jewels, catching the light. It is burnished bronze and polished mahogany. All these riches, if we are minded to see them.
Let’s celebrate those who dare to be different. Who let their madness shine through. Who receive a frosty reception but do it anyway.
We tend to focus on colour in autumn, but it is also a change in form that I notice. Leaves thin out, filtering sunlight. Each leaf is holding on by a thread. They spin on their stalks, catching the light. It is like the garden is strung with fairy lights.
A post about how the dark times we go through help us to appreciate the moments of lightness…
There is something about walking together. The rhythmic pounding and arm swinging. You fall into step and emotionally attune to one another. There is nothing forced about it; it just happens.
Roses are like people. They can manage with very little. But with a few little acts of kindness, they will richly reward you next summer with more blooms, strong growth and resistance to disease. Here are five simple acts to show that you care.
An experiment into whether I can bring a growth mindset to housework. I enjoy the movement and the sensory pleasures of ‘garden cleaning’. Could this be harnessed for house cleaning?
I remember finding the image of Miss Haversham rather thrilling. Her abandon of social convention. Her total neglect of housework. Her cunning.