repost
It had rained overnight and it was still overcast and sprinkly with sun expected in the afternoon ; perfect weather for 'gardening'.
The grass along the fence which the mower knows to miss was long enough to yield to gentle tugs and once unearthed was laid down on the ground along the fence where it will return to the earth and enrich the soil.
The plant not grass - I think it is feverfew; will have to google images (I have gardening books but oh that Net is proving more and more such a resource) - got left to grow; a garden volunteer. It smells lovely when touched and then fingers sniffed.
This fennel plant I dug up from the boulevard outside Vic High where it would soon be mowed down and put alongside the (possibly) feverfew plant. The fennel still looks in a bit of a thoughtful state about getting about the business of growing and feathering and looking so pretty but I am hopeful. I cannot seem to find the other ones I tucked here and there about the garden: I am prepared to be surprised if and when they shoot up.
The lily of the valley which were so visible a few weeks ago went into hiding; actually, they were over/whelmed/grown by the blue bells and daffodils. But I knew they were there and got three fragrant successive bouquets (the last one is on the table as I write) by successfully snooping.
Today the spent bluebells, the spent daffs got tugged out and added to the line of plant material along the fence and will creep forward each year, perhaps, and replace the grass.
Oh yes, I admit and agree that this Australian bushmint bush is dead - likely. It survived two winters but - likely - died in this last severe one.
The stem and leaves are not highly fragrant like its less hardy cousin or I think it would have been added to my potpourri collection. But still it stays in the garden and offers beauty in a way of seeing. Or hearing: the wind plays music on its brittle leaves.
At its base is a Scotch thistle still in its container.
It came from the garden of friends in my Eleven Block Garden adventure and I had intended slitting it into the swath of ground beside the path but somehow it has remained where I first set it down and I am becoming used to it there.
It can spread once it blooms and although its babies are easily pulled up I will not risk the upset of neighbours so will keep it 'picked' in my garden. It is such a stunning plant and beneficial to insects.
The area beside the verandah stairs where I plopped in a chair and a footrest and a bit of dropped sky in the guise of a bowling ball served me very well last autumn as a garden shelter from the very windy winds. And again in the winter when we had a lot of snow and I stomped it down and stomped across it and sat in this chair in the midst. And the neighbourhood cat came and sat on my lap. And I had a pleasant thought or two for the snow for giving such an experience.
Today I tugged out vegetation that was starting to hide the sky ball and tickling the turtle's tummy.
The southernwood on the verandah did survive the winter and its soft wispy foliage stains the fingers with scent each morning when I go down to get the newspaer and on when to'ing and fro'ing from home during the day.
The scented geranium that flanked it did not live to enhance another season; it rarely does, even in our (usually) moderate climate.
So I went on a search for some more; plant sales have not turned up any in earlier quests so I headed to the nurseries. Nothing. Well, actualy there were a few, but not the kind I wanted. And the thought of battery chickens crossed my mind as I wandered the aisles, an image that I will be sure to get by if I fail to come up with some scented geranium either from local markets or someone's garden clippings. I am hopeful. I could have bought fennel from a nursery but, as in the case of the ones now planted (or hiding) in my garden, they have so much more personality, so much more meaning because I know where they came from and how I obtained them (it was a 'rescue' mission, remember, one step or two before the lawn mower). The boots .....
... and the gloves continue to enjoy the outdoors while the mere mortal had to make do with doors and windows wide.
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