I ate lunch in my garden today.
. . . At 6:15 in the evening, while racing around watering things* because I still had to get the hellhounds out for the afternoon hurtle before I went bell ringing. It’s been one of those days.** I had Computer Man here a long stretch this morning solving various arcane predicaments plus a crash course in photo managing*** and then I had all these business emails to write in all of which the blog was a necessary referent. The blog has taken over my life.
. . . And then we went to a garden centre. I need more plants, you know. Hey, you’ve seen the garden. You know.† But both Peter and I need Large Pots: Peter is building a screen so that all the messy bits have somewhere to hide–the messy bits which for some reason no one else in the mews seems to generate: the individual gardens are all open at the back, and there’s all this manicured lawn and knife-edged borders with not a twig out of place, and . . . Peter. I need pots because I always need pots and at the moment I’m creating an infrastructure next to the hedge at Third House to move the hellhounds’ racetrack in about a foot, so I can still plant bulbs against the hedge (as well as preserve the ones that are already there), among Large Pots for hellhound deflection. Also I have all these camellias†† which have to live in pots††† anyway, and will like the shade the hedge provides. And I hope the garden centre sold tickets to our performance of getting all the Large Pots in the Small Car‡. We did it. Cue swelling victory trumpets.
But by the time we got back, and had winkled the Large Pots back out of the Small Car, it was disgracefully late, and I had somehow neglected to eat lunch‡‡, and I had all these gasping little things to water‡‡‡, and hellhounds, and bell ringing . . . but I did in fact clear off the nearer chair and sit down for a little while and look around, and make myself not leap up to do something–gardeners never sit down in gardens: all those benches are statuary really–and think, yes. It’s small, but it’s a garden. And just look at Madame Gregoire go. . . .
* * *
* It has never rained. It will never rain. I will be running around with watering cans every day/every other day for the rest of my life. No, I’m wrong, it will rain, and soon too, because Souvenir de la Malmaison is poised to come out. Souvenir de la Malmaison is one of my madder decisions about roses to plant in the cottage garden. She’s one of the ones regularly described as the most beautiful rose of all^. There are two versions of her: the too small and the too large. I had both at the old house, the large first, which was there before me, and I spent several years negotiating with her. She grew to about ten foot square and in a good year she was so beautiful you wanted to die while you stood there looking at her and inhaling as hard as you could because she smelled as glorious as she looked, because it just wouldn’t get any better and why not go out on a high. A spectacular high.
Good years were rare. Far more often I spent the day before we opened–we used to open the old garden to the public as part of the ‘yellow book’ National Gardens scheme–cutting off 1,000,000,000 brown, balled, rotting, hideous, disgusting non-flowers, so the way she looked wouldn’t ruin everything. She did this because it had had the temerity to rain. Well, you know, it does rain. Sometimes it rains a lot. Usually just before Souvenir de la Malmaison is, or rather was, about to come out. Malmaison’s flowers hate rain. Lots of flowers ball in the rain–lots of roses ball in the rain–and old or old-fashioned roses with lots of thin fine petals can ball badly. But nobody does it like Malmaison does it. Malmaison has a genius for it. Eventually I couldn’t stand it any longer and we had her out. The old garden was big–two and a half acres, way too much of it labour-intensive flowerbeds–but even in a garden that size a ten foot square shrub that never did anything but sit there being ten foot square–barring the frantic deadheading the day before an opening–is not an asset. You also have other things to do the day before an opening.
After a few years I bought the little version. Which is a frail, sickly thing, and which does produce a few flowers in a good year, but don’t count on it, and while they’re the same general model as on the big one, they don’t have the same breathtaking quality. Like drinking own-brand champagne instead of Tattinger’s, speaking of champagne, which I often am. It’s champagne, but . . . The little one eventually died and was not replaced.
Fast-forward and I’m standing in a handkerchief-sized garden that is already jammed solid with plants put in by my predecessor, and feeling that my world has ended, which it has. This is the new world, and it’s . . . small.
So I decided to put in Souvenir de la Malmaison^^. Of course. Well, one of the advantages of a small garden is that you can afford to fuss more over what you’ve got because you’ve got so much less of it. And I was going to put bubble wrap over her if it was going to rain just before she flowered.
First year she was only getting going, only put out two or three slightly odd, dazed roses. Second year–last year, she had a good crop and, yes, sure enough, it rained Solid Wall of Water style for about a week just as her buds were cracking open so the rain could get in. And I laundry-pegged bubble wrap all over her. And it worked. It looked dumb as sawdust, and I had to keep going out there and rearranging it so that the lakes that were collecting in the hollows wouldn’t rip the whole shebang off. But it worked. I had a good dozen Souvenir de la Malmaison flowers last year for the first time in what must be a decade. She’s got probably twice as many buds this year–she’s also starting to get dangerously huge: well, I keep feeding her in this counterproductive way.
In another seven years I’ll be wrapping my wisteria up at Third House in bubble wrap when there’s a frost due when it’s about to come out: but they grow slower than rose bushes to begin with . . . AND THEN THEY GET VERY, VERY BIG INDEED. In twenty years I’ll need to build a bubble wrap factory but I’ll worry about that later.
Oh, and by the way, the weather report says it’s going to sheet Monday and Tuesday. Yes. Dead on time. My bubblewrap and I are ready. I’m going to get some Malmaison photos this year. I have a blog to feed.
^ As is Fantin Latour, whom I also grow, which is also a certifiably+ insane decision
+ Over here you’re sectioned, not committed. I know that the fact of it is one of the least funny things there is, but I love the fact that the verb employed is ‘section’. Sad sick person as grapefruit. What immediately reminded me of it is the fellow in China Mieville’s UNLUNDUN who has a birdcage for a head, with a bird in it. He’s been sectioned.
^^ And Fantin, and Queenie, both of whom will get to six foot in all directions
** If a day came along that wasn’t one of those days I wouldn’t know how to behave.
*** He says even someone merely with a blog to feed is going to get frustrated with the limits of Microsoft Photo Editor and I’m going to want Photoshop soon. Aaaaaugh. Well, it’s not today. Today I’m still thrilled at how to lower the file size of a photo so I can load it on the blog after all. Tomorrow.
† The part of that story I’m leaving out however is that we could go on a Friday afternoon because I cancelled my piano lesson. I cancelled my piano lesson because the part of that story I’m leaving out is that the ME is still bouncing me around like a basketball and I have Very Little Available Brain. What hours of it there are go on PEGASUS and I am mostly managing to continue to extrude blog entries. I can fake bell ringing to an extent, although I’m ringing pretty goddam badly lately if you want to know^, and you can do quite a lot of gardening at half speed on no brain. And the hellhounds, of course. I can’t fake the piano. I’m way too lousy a pianist–my playing makes my bell ringing look good–and what I really want to be getting on with is my composing and I haven’t got the brain to spare. At least not till I can start selling my songs, ha ha. So I was mooching around feeling sulky and pathetic and Peter said, let’s go to the garden centre. We’ve been going to go to the garden centre for a while and haven’t quite made it. When the ME is really bad I can’t drive, but at half-bad like this I’m okay so long as I stick to pootering around back roads.
^ Tonight I had company which I was cravenly grateful for
†† And am planning to buy a few more
††† They don’t like our soil
‡ And since you’ve already got all these Large Pots the little plants you’ve picked up just by the way go inside the Large Pots and take up no room at all.
‡‡ I know, I know, I get it from Peter all the time, I don’t take care of myself, is it any wonder I have ME, blah blah blah blah blah blah blah. The short answer is: yes and no. I actually take pretty good care of myself, but this doesn’t make a very interesting story. And it’s not the voluntary stuff that’s the real problem either. Nobody knows how much genetic vulnerability or what-have-you makes you susceptible to various auto-immune goblins, but what I chiefly need is to learn not to wind myself up. And this is not as straightforward as cutting out dairy products and eating a lot of fresh organic veg.
‡‡‡ Including a few new ones
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***** but what I chiefly need is to learn not to wind myself up.
Yes, too true (sigh). Traffic jams, stupid drivers, thoughtless dog owners, plants wilting, weather being disobliging, annoying neighbours, feeling ill, friends/family not close enough… (delete as necessary)
But how lovely to have Peter and a garden centre and time to spend:)
Will light another candle to send after the ME (grrrr!!)
You and all the villagers wouldn’t like to come after it with tarred torches and pitchforks and things, would you? :)
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I’ll set Frankenweenie on it right away – sic it boy!!
http://minadream.com/timburton/Frankenweenie.htm
Trying again as my reply seems to have been swallowed by “computers of doom” :(
I’ll bring Frankenweenie and his “villagers” who can scare the beastly ME into the next county… (but not Sussex, of course :) )
http://minadream.com/timburton/Frankenweenie.htm
I’m trying one last time to send this – pleas forgive multiple posts if you get a rash of them;)
I’ve sent Frankenweenie and his “villagers”(neighbours in his case) to chase your ME gremlins away
http://minadream.com/timburton/Frankenweenie.htm
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See, I knew you’d post just as I was spinning and had my hands too full to properly type. *types over fluffy batt of fiber*
I never went for Photoshop on the PC, but the Mac came with a really nice photo editor that isn’t hard to use. I use it all the time now! But you won’t need Photoshop if you don’t want it. You’ll be *fine*! *promises* *swears over pink and green fiber*
I acknowledge this is a persuasive swear . . . :)
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Funny how the footnote is longer than the post itself…
Prayers for the ME.
Have I mentioned recently that you are hilarious? Because you are.
Oh good. :) Yes, my footnotes do fill up the space usefully sometimes. :)
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>> Malmaison’s flowers hate rain. Lots of flowers ball in the rain–lots of roses ball in the rain–and old or old-fashioned roses with lots of thin fine petals can ball badly. But nobody does it like Malmaison does it. Malmaison has a genius for it. <<
Ahem. And here I was thinking there was little advantage to howling winds besides the view……. ;)
http://www.flickr.com/photos/21742944@N05/2516979423/
Enjoy. :)
And yes. It was after rain. ner ner ner
::hides from the Hellgoddess and her hounds::
The pink is interesting: she’s creamy white here with just a faint flesh/pink at the centre.
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Hmmmmm it is colder at the moment – all the autumn flush roses are a little more ‘intense’ with their colour.
Having spent the day wandering about uselessly going “I don’t feel good” I entirely sympathize. I hope tomorrow is better.
Yes. Ugh. You too.
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What fun to go to the garden center and buy stuff to plant. I know, you have a small garden, it’s a vice, etc. etc., but still FUN. Most of my gardening is pulling up godawful weeds, and while there is a lot of immediate gratification in getting them up by the roots it isn’t as much fun as planting, which I do as a reward to myself. Since we got some warm weather, the hostas are coming up. When I get home and get an idea of their current size, I will go buy some more so the bed fills up faster, and get the daylilies I want for my next bit of reclaimed border before the cultivars I want sell out. (Then will have to get back to weeding, of course, so there’s a place to put the daylilies.)
The crabapples weren’t quite open today, but tomorrow, when I fill the bird feeders before I leave, I will try to remember to take some pictures anyway.
Sorry to hear the ME is still oppressing you. I hope doing plant work is enough of a stress reducer for you that the ME gets calmed down at the same time. Stress seems to have a significant effect in the way autoimmune-mediated diseases behave.
Puppy news: we found out today that the Alpha Bitch’s sister is pregnant, with four for sure, maybe five. It seems reasonable to think that at least one of them will be a boy, hopefully two will be so there’s a choice. Yay Sister! I’m going to Mass. to see my 97-year-old aunt and probably will not get up to NH to see Sister, but I will go to the New England Dane club’s show on my way home next Friday and talk to the breeder there. (And see quite a few of A.B.’s relatives at the same time.) They should be born around the end of June. Yay puppies!
YAAY PUPPIES. We want PHOTOS. We want photos of TINY Great Danes. The imagination boggles. :) I assume it’s the same with all breeds: they’re all born soft shapeless generic Puppy.
I love daylilies. They’re both spectacular and *easy.* And my new hosta is going great guns. And the one that had disappeared without trace and was therefore obviously dead is BACK. :)
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Again, YAAY puppies! Do bring back photos of all the relatives, please. Do you see family resemblances when you watch them? I love seeing characteristics that an aunt or grandmother has and fitting the family pieces together :)
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You know, it rained today in Las Vegas. *very smug* It’s been wonderful for the rocks.
And there was that lovely scent that comes up out of the earth after it hasn’t rained for a long time. I’d forgotten that it exists because in Portland it rains all the time, and in Las Vegas it never does. I went outside and just took deep, deep breaths for a while.
Also, I have wanted to start a blog for some time now, but I am afraid of two things:
That the blog will suck me in as yours has, and that I shall become a pale white ghost, rapidly typing away on my keyboard at all hours (it is 2:13 am right now, and I don’t even have a blog!). Or that blogging will cause an early death, as it has for those poor souls who were recently in the news.
My other fear is that blogging will not absorb me at all, and then my blog will fade away and people stumbling upon it will feel some mild surprise when they see that it was last updated three years ago.
The reason I’m typing at 2 am is because I’ve been doing other things the REST of the day. It’s your life, kiddo, have fun with it however suits you. And I’m sure quoits and macrame have killed a few devotees too. Life is a terminal disease.
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I’m going to get some Malmaison photos this year.
I think I’d like to see some photos of it AFTER it gets rained on, if it’s that dramatically awful… :)
Tomorrow. Sigh.
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I’ve been haunting this blog for some time now (looking/reading about your gardens and unbearable adorable Hellhounds) and I’ve finally gotten up the courage to ask you some questions. I’ve heard you mention that you grow clematis as well as your abundance of roses and since I have recently become the proud owner of a “President” clematis, which is a truly lovely purple that in no way reflects the one currently in office, I have a couple questions. Do you use fences or trellises? I have to use a trellis since my fence does not have the proper grips for the clematis’ questing branches. And do you cut it back in the winter? I have never heard what to do about that and my attempts at google searches have been less than informative. Also, since you are on a picture-posting spree, you should post some photos of your clematises! I would love to see what kinds you have. The nurseries around my homes are unfortunately limited.
I’ve got a couple of photos on the camera but barring a couple of the spring little-dangly-bell ones they’re only just thinking about coming out. As for pruning: there are three categories, the don’t prune, the messy complicated prune, and the hack off at the knees every winter. The don’t prune turn into jungles after a few years, the messy complicated prune ones flower twice and whatever shoots you cut off will be the wrong ones, and the hack off at the knees are the ones I have as many of as possible. You need to know what category a clematis is in and this is genuinely really basic stuff and any clematis specialist nursery or its site can tell you.
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If the reason you say “Aaaugh” about Photoshop is its massive price, http://www.gimp.org/ might help. The link is to GIMP, an open source (and free!) Photoshop alternative. If you already know Photoshop, it takes a while to relearn how to do everything, but starting from scratch you shouldn’t have any problem. And did I mention it’s free?
Here’s the link directly to the windows-ready download: http://gimp-win.sourceforge.net/stable.html
I hope this helps!
Thank you! I’ll let you know . . . probably . . . :)
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“He says even someone merely with a blog to feed is going to get frustrated with the limits of Microsoft Photo Editor and I’m going to want Photoshop soon. ”
Elder Daughter has played with Photoshop in one of her computer graphics classes, and we actually had a copy, briefly, before the last PC crash (we have a very kindly computer repairman).
She prefers PaintShopPro, and I’d trust her judgement. Even I can use PSP, and it’s quite fine for things like cropping, reducing size and correcting color. Ours is an older version, PSP7, but it still seems to work just fine for fixing up photos of my arts and crafts to post on my LJ, and making icons from screencaps and fun stuff like that. Younger Daughter is actually quite adept with artwork; I should really get her to show me some of those tricks.
*Sends Robin hugs, healing vibes, and Mr Bolty to smite the ME vampires*
Oh, hello Mr Bolty, my good friend. :)
The thing about Photoshop, it turns out, is that it’s what my Computer Man uses himself–he builds web sites in his spare time, good gods–AND Blogmom uses it, so she can talk me through if necessary. I’ll ask about PSP but I will inevitably go where the support is. Because I am DEAD MEAT without support.
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I see your point, especially since you’re going to be learning something new no matter what. Good support is worth its weight in hellhounds (and they, of course, are beyond price).
I believe there’s a student version of Photoshop – Emily thinks it’s Adobe Creative Suite Student Version. But if you trust Computer Man and Blogmom, just let them choose for you; they’ve already done all the consumer research. Then you can blame them if things go wrong (not that they will, I’m keeping my fingers crossed for you).
Me and computers? Of COURSE things will go wrong. Sigh. But that’s why I have support . . . and follow what it tells me SLAVISHLY.
2nd-to-last-footnote:
One can take care of onesself perfectly till the cows come home, but it doesn’t make life any more worth living. I have found that if i take care of myself fanatically well compared to an average person but only nearly very well for a health fanatic, and make sure to live a little, I have a much better life. I hate it when people imply that I DESERVE to not feel well because I went out or got less sleep than usual or whatever. That is bull. I DESERVE to be able to do what I want regardless and have my body cooperate, but since it doesn’t, I work to strike a balance. This always involves moving back and forth across the line.
Yes. Absolutely. (Sigh.)
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And regarding your bubble-wrap factory, I wonder if they make these in smaller? This is my Dad and how he is keeping the birds organically away from the tomatoes this year:
http://pics.livejournal.com/chiquitar/pic/0006a6g7/
The earlier version of this was home-made of PVC pipes and netting, a bit smaller, and placed over one of the cherry trees. One day a dust devil (in case people don’t know what these are, they are like weak low miniature tornadoes that happen out in the desert of Eastern Washington when the winds get a little swirly) picked one up off the tree and set it rolling. It gathered some tumbleweeds. A-rollin’ away across the wheat fields it went. We got a phone call from a neighbor a couple miles away that had seen it go by her house, but it never was recovered =-) You can see version 3.0 here is staked down like anything!
Full points to your dad but it wouldn’t fit in MY garden. . . . bubble wrap is at least very BENDY. :)