This summer I am sticking to the game plan. Six pots of annuals, that's it.
Back before I realised that gardening was a fancy word for hard work, I used to fill 25-30 pots with annuals every year. I must have been insane. And this was at a time when I was building raised beds and laying retaining walls and nurturing newly planted perennials. I am so much wiser (and lazier) now. I figure it's the garden's turn to do some of the work.
A few days ago I had to hang around the opposite corner of the city for a couple of hours, so I planned a trip to a major greenhouse there during that time to buy my bedding plants. This particular greenhouse has a reputation for being the place for all your gardening needs. It was pouring buckets and bloody cold, so I figured I would pretty much have the place myself. And I did, but maybe it wasn't the weather that was keeping people away in droves.
The greenhouse was huge! And the bedding out section looked to be at least an acre ... of nothing.
I went painstakingly up and down every row and section, searching for something that I could bear to look at all summer long, and all I could see were geraniums, petunias, and marigolds. The biggest greenhouse I have ever seen in my life and all they carry are geraniums, petunias, and marigolds?
After some fine-toothed combing I finally managed to suss out some fuchsias, impatients, verbena, lobelia, ivy, and ornamental grasses. Nothing very exotic. But at least the meager selection kept my overbuying tendencies at bay.
And today the cat would not come outside to help me fill the garden pots, and she normally loves gardening, because there is a homicidal maniac blue jay hanging around our yard and every time Sputty goes outside, the blue jay gets all up in her grill.
Radiohead chillin. Here's Thom channeling Beth Gibbons:
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For those of you who like to compare and contrast, here's the original by Portishead - The Rip.