Kia ora koutou, I know, I know, autumn has hardly finished and here I am ignoring the coming winter and thinking of spring but dreams are free. As you know, you turn your back on the garden for a second and suddenly the weeds are two feet high. So maybe its best to plan and plant or at least, dream.
The broad beans are planted and silver beet is growing. I need some more silver beet and some spinach seedlings would be good. Lettuce of course, hopefully some basil when the seedlings appear, tomatoes of course although I didn’t have much luck with them this last season. Allegedly ground hugging tomatoes, these shot up and needed stakes. I know I’ve mentioned this before, okay? They weren’t all that prolific either.
The roses will be pruned, so I don’t have to worry about them but what about the rest? I’m thinking sweet peas on every fence. Lashings of them. Swathes – thick masses – all taller than me, what do you reckon? I’m also thinking sunflowers, the big tall ones that turn their faces and follow the sun as it moves over their heads. Yes I know they need staking but its a deal with gardening isn’t it – its not all one way.
Irises will bloom anyway but one or two more might be nice. And some border plants. Yes, this year, the old–fashioned garden is back. Well, lets say the plans are back, but also lets say without that first glimmering, that first idea, nothing will happen so its great to play around with possibilities. One flick of the wand you have a garden loaded with Sweet William and Granny’s Bonnets, and then another flick and its tulips and lovely dark–eyed pansies or primroses.
This is the time to dream and some of these dreams will be come reality. Here’s the lovely poem by Ursula Bethell…I know you probably all know it but good poems need to be repeated over and over…
Time
‘Established’ is a good word, much used in garden books
‘The plant, when established’ . . .
Oh, become established quickly, quickly, garden
For I am fugitive, I am very fugitive – – –
Those that come after me will gather these roses,
And watch, as I do now, the white wistaria
Burst, in the sunshine, from its pale green sheath.
Planned. Planted. Established. Then neglected,
Till at last the loiterer by the gate will wonder
At the old, old cottage, the old wooden cottage,
And say ‘One might build here, the view is glorious;
This must have been a pretty garden once.’
Thank you Ursula, your poem has set many gardeners dreaming…
Renée
