It is official. In my garden anyway. Spring has jolly well sprung. I trundled off to the garden after I wrote my last post and could not resist a bit of digging and tidying and pruning. And then I thought that I could as well mow the lawn, empty out my bird bath that sits under the tree and cut a new bed.
Well, so much for sitting under a tree gazing at the clouds!! Still, I don't class mucking about in the garden as work. More like therapy. All I need to do now is keep it looking lovely. Which it generally does till about mid- July when I get bored and stop watering and everything starts to die.
I am not a great gardener, but an optimistic one. Not easy to be a gardener when your boys are football freaks. In summer the air is filled with my screams, " Mind my plants with that ball!!!! Tread softly on my grass, I've just fed it!!! "
And then I just shut my eyes to the carnage and see if my neighbour fancies a cold beer. Which she invariably does. This year I plan to cut out the middle man and go straight from the planting to the beer, thus saving myself, my sons and indeed the whole neighbourhood a lot of grief.