I’ve started a garden journal for a couple of reasons. Mostly because I like the idea of it, it seems like a gentle and mindful practice, one that makes you look closer at things. But also because I don’t like having bits of cheap looking plastic tags flapping around on plants & I can’t remember how to look after all of them!
The garden has changed in an incredible way since this time last year, when the first real planting was done. I was told when I moved in that plants either grow really well here or not at all- however most seem to have taken. But it’s not just plants – structures have been added, using local materials wherever possible. An entrance way out of logs, that I’ll grow a climbing rose up & beautiful dry stone walls made by local craftsmen.
So to be sitting among tall well established fragrant plants, with little birds darting in and sipping nectar from the yellow pokers is like a dream. I really have to be grateful to Seasol and Lambley’s nursery where I got most of the plants & every one who has helped work in the garden to make it bloom so beautifully.
But of course a garden never ends- and that’s why I’ve started a journal, to plan and map the voyage on from here…
To record unexpected surprises like the wild opium poppy found growing out the front, a legacy from the Gold Rush days when there was an opium den in town. The red and black somehow similar to the colouring of a red back spider I once saw – the unreal intensity a warning of danger.
To note down how much I am learning about growing things- for example I never understood that mulch was like a little blanket that kept the moisture in and the weeds away. And to understand that everything is changing around us all the time & how planting a garden is almost an act of hope in the future.