Groundwork

A single cyclamen.

Here it is, our weekly #SixonSaturday happening, that day when bloggers around the world share six things from their garden - a job, a new bud, a pest, a plan.

A few weeks ago, we moved house.  Last time you saw me, I'd just climbed out of a snow bank & was busy clearing an area in the new garden for a potting shed.

The simple task of levelling ground has developed into a shed saga.  We're also under another snow attack.

Best of all, I've begun a proper explore of my new territory.








1.  Another base, new skill set.

Last week, it was nose to the grindstone getting the base ready before the potting shed was delivered.  My dedication to duty, all that delay of garden gratification, & then the shed's arrival was postponed.

However, the 2nd shed (our storage shed) came early.  While I'd rather've been peering intently into the nooks & crannies of the garden, all of my shed contents were still inside the house, annoying the non-gardeners.

Ground Levelling, Episode 2.

A certain SoSer convinced me to get a metal shed.  That necessitated a cement or paver base, instead of the so-easy-to-assemble-even-I-could-do-it plastic grid base.

We have a hoard of pavers (which you'll read more about in #4 below) so pavers it is.  I watched a YouTube video, rounded up the resident muscle brigade & boldly went where we highly educated, unceasingly impractical folk have never gone before.

Devil's work.

We laid pavers, laughing & swearing, me shouting down cries to hire a builder, all of us trying to outrun an unpredicted rain storm, hampered by not only total ignorance, but my CFS . . . I'm a bit of an optimistic eejit, if you've not picked that up over these many long months.

After 2 hours, we only got a third of the area covered before the rain.  And because we're who we are, we're proud of our one-third paver base.


2.  Stepping stones.

The rain came, so we go up the smooshed-grass trail from paver base to house, & I mutter that I'm going to have to dig out a path here.

My son, El Punko stops & taps the ground with the shovel he's carrying, making a metal-against-stone sound.  Then he looks at me with his, I-see-things-you-don't-see grin.  It's a game he's played his whole life, using his incredible visual acuity against me.

After I scraped the grass off.

One of the things that makes his vision so acute is that he sees extra shades of green that most people don't - the grass over the stones was a different shade to him, hinting at something underneath. 

With eyes like that, seems a waste he's not interested in gardening.

The stones look a bit far apart.  Can't wait to uncover them all, see what the plan there was.


3.  No plants.

So we go inside, spread an old blanket on the living room floor, set out our tools, & gleefully unbox the metal shed.  Five shed parts are missing.

The universe has spoken.  Feck delayed gratification.

On with the rain gear & outside to explore.  Besides the hither & yon of a few bluebells, there's little that didn't get here on the wind or by thwarting the fence between us & the neighbour's garden - the fennel from last week, a couple of valerian, some vinca, ivy & creeping Rose of Sharon.

So far, I've found 2 inherited plants - the lone cyclamen pictured above & this mystery plant below:

Little red-capped strangers.

It looks rather peony-y, doesn't it?  Last year's dead stems don't look peony-y at all, & it does seem a bit posh for this garden, but I'm still betting it's a peony.


4.  The terrace.

It surprised me that the horizontal section of the terrace had pavers over it.  You can see they're simply laid in place without mortar.

The terrace lid.

I'd expected builder's rubble underneath, but no, just compacted dirt.  So, original design or someone in the history of the place not wanting more garden to look after?

Inside the box.

Whatever the story, that stuff's going to need some food.  Have been reading about bio-char, which various sources claim to be plant manna.  Has anyone had first, second or third hand experience with it?


5.  Not-crooked cherry tree.

While the garden had little to offer of plant interest, in my potted forest, the Not-Crooked Cherry tree is in bloom.

Think I'll name her Hillary.

I bought this at the Angry Village Plant Sale (3 gardens ago).  They said it was a wild cherry someone'd found in the woods & dug up.  Whatever its pedigree, it blooms a lot earlier than my Crooked Cherry &'s a lovely sight on a snowy day like today.


6.  Like Santa, your kids know everything about you.

El Punko gave me a book this week.

.Some book larning

He said it was so I could keep up with the other SoSers.  And he called the other bloggers that - SoSers.  All this time, I thought he wasn't listening.

My education begins.  And I don't mean Latin names.

Here be new plants.

This week, events conspired to remind me that gardening isn't working til you drop in the hammock with a glass of wine & a book you're too tired to read.

A gardener is as much a part of the garden as the plants, the bugs, the rapacious frogs, the fox & birds & marauding cats.  It takes a dialogue  amongst the lot of us to know what's needed next.

Sometimes what's needed is a little less levelling of the ground, a little more joy in discovering my garden.

Or other folks' gardens.  For a lot more of that, run over to our meme host, The Propagator to see what he's been up to this week.  There'll be lots more links to SoS garden bloggers in his comment section.

Little Boxes Made of Ticky Tacky

Dignity restored.

It's been a fortnight since the Beast from the East swept in during our Great Migration.

As with every move, something vital isn't in the box I thought it was, my favourite (insert household item) doesn't fit, & there's a list of niggling repairs to compile for the agent.

But with the snow gone, every afternoon, you'll find me in the garden.




1.  Potting shed.

Our previous houses've had multiple outbuildings - sheds, garages, sometimes even an apple store or outdoor flush toilet.  Our new place had this:

A bit of fencing propped on top of a slide.

But alas, this fine structure wasn't for us - the landlord hauled it away.  (The proper shed in the photo belongs to my neighbour.  Note the terraces for later.)

Levelling the base area.

Our potting shed'll go in the same place.  I chose plastic over a cement or stone base so we can take it with us when we move (hopefully to our forever home, this time). 

There's about 4" of loose, dry topsoil, then paving stones underneath.  Might've saved a quid or two if I'd poke around a bit first.  On the other hand, not sure how even the pavers are.  Once I realised they were there, I worked on smoothing the topsoil rather than digging them out.

A weed barrier goes under this grid, but for now, it's easier to put it in place & get it level, rather than measuring & remembering the math.


2.  Abscondment explained.

Besides abandoning their survivalist's shed, the amount of stuff left in the house suggests the previous tenants did a runner.  When levelling the shed space, I found critical evidence to explain this dead-of-night departure.

The murder weapon.

My family remains unimpressed.  One callous soul even reminded me of the bones I dug up in a previous garden, how they also set my mind to murder.  Turned out, I'd unearthed someone's dead dog. 

Imagination's like a muscle, you know.  Gotta exercise it.


3.  Fennel

We've never had a terraced garden before.  It'll probably become our veg patch, but for the moment, I keep staring at it like a love sick puppy, taking in the details.  Here's a little beauty growing in the masonry.  It smells of anise so I reckon it's fennel.

Growing in the cracks.

4.  Hollyhock

Under one of the trees at the top of the terrace, I found a hollyhock that looked as if someone had yanked it out of the ground & flung it there.  It was still alive, so I tossed it in a trug that had melted snow in the bottom to rehydrate the thing, then forgot about it.

The next day it was still alive, so I stuck it in a nearly empty bag of compost, splinted its broken stem with a Magnum stick & some packing tape, then propped it against the fence. We'll see how it goes.

Patient's recovering well.

5.  Rt Hon Lady BossyBoots

Your one appeared in our back garden unannounced.  A bit forward for a Brit, but not for an Appalachian, so no offense taken.  She asked what trees were in my potted forest.

BossyBoots

Before I can open my mouth, she spews a list of her own trees, & why's that fig back here - move it to the front garden, do you feed it there's your mistake, neverfeedafigit'llneverfruit, they love to suffer & that hollyhock's just a wild (dismissive flick of the hand), tiny (grimace) green flower, you won't like it, I have purple hollyhocks I'll give you, granny's bonnets, that's what you need, did you know your house was a cannabis factory?

I'd hoped for murder, but a grow house.  That'll do.

And she was IN my back garden, Mr Propagator, so she counts as one of my Six.


6.  Kickass Compost

Thus explained, the 10 bags of this stuff the last occupants left beside the back door.  Rumour has it the entire crawl space under the house is full of it.  I've not found access to the crawl space yet, but if I do, I'm going in.   

Contraband.

Apparently, it's an hydroponic mix.  I've been researching how to use it in the veg patch.  My initial searches included the word 'cannabis' which led me to blocked sites.  Might have to have a word with our resident hacker.

Until then, does anyone know whether this stuff needs cut to work in the garden or can it be used full test?

Cuttings still hanging in there.

It's been an interesting move.

Best of all, the garden feels good.  A few weeks ago in this very blog, I let loose on hating my garden .  I was only able to do that because we were leaving the damnable place.

Now this week . . . well, during one of my rests, I sat looking at the witch hazel, the last of its crinkly red flowers drying out for seed.  I thought, move that to 11:00 & it'll be perfect.

So I did.  And it was.  This garden feels good.

I'm not alone in this feeling.  If you want to read more gardeners in love with their patch, head over to The Propagator for his & other stories by the half dozen.

See you next week.