Today was quiet and mostly civilised. A couple called in to collect a Philadelphus that we'd reserved for them, and were really pleased that we'd rung to say we'd got the plant. While they were at it they bought an early flowering yellow rose as well, Rosa banksiae 'Lutea'. A customer I'd called yesterday because Prunus mume 'Beni -chidori' was in stock and she'd wanted one in the summer when we didn't have any rang back to say that she had sourced the plant elsewhere, but was grateful we'd taken the trouble to ring. It is considerate of people when they do let us know that they no longer require a plant, since we can put the reserved specimen back out for sale. 'Beni-chidori' is a pretty thing, an ornamental tree from Asia with small, vivid cherry-pink flowers in spring. The name means flight of the red plovers.
Somebody rang from Norfolk asking about the availability of various trees. One of them I'd never heard of, and nor had the manager. It was a narrow leaved form of the cockspur thorn, full moniker Crataegus crus-galli var. pyracanthifolia. She said that it was a thoroughly good small tree, that formed a perfect umbrella shaped crown, which she'd had in a previous garden. She'd bought her original tree from Hillier's nursery, but they no longer sell direct to the public, and the Crataegus wasn't in the Plantfinder at all, though it was in Hillier's dictionary of trees and shrubs. I looked it up after our conversation, and it did sound very nice, so I said to the manager that if he ever saw plants offered by a grower maybe he should snap them up. She was after the tansy leaved thorn as well, which we had, though smaller than she might have liked, and a flowering cherry and various other things, some of which we were expecting later in the autumn. We ended up with quite an organised plan to assemble what plants we could get, so that she could send someone with a lorry to collect them. From her voice I put her down as quite old, and quite posh, and she had a refreshingly clear grasp of how to order plants. In the course of two conversations we'd established what we had, what we ought to be able to get, when that was likely to be, and how she was going to pay for them and get them to Norfolk. I wish all our customers were as organised. Compared with the Woman who wanted sixteen lavenders it was like dealing with a Mckinsey consultant.
It is frustrating when no grower propagates a good plant variety and it isn't available for sale. Of course, these are precisely the plants that a certain kind of gardener wants to possess. If you are a plant collector making trips out to the wilds of Asia or South America, or friends with plant collectors, so that you can lay your hands on things grown from wild collected seed before they enter commerce (if they ever do), or are on plant swopping terms with other exclusive gardens, that marks you out as a certain type of gardener. If you care about whether your garden contains commercially unobtainable rarities that marks you out as a certain kind of person. We do have a few customers like that, but they always seem rather pathetic to me. Better not to let on, if you are that way inclined, like getting a First while managing to give the appearance of not having done any work.
I spent the afternoon weeding the hardy geraniums, and ended up with back ache, again, from working on a bench that was too low, alternating with working holding the pot against my stomach with one hand, which left me with a black disc of compost on my uniform shirt. Exasperated by the back ache (I don't really care about the shirt. It's going in the washing machine, and if it comes out still looking grubby that's tough) I outlined my idea for a mobile potting bench to the manager, who said it was a really good idea. That is what my fellow back ache sufferer said yesterday afternoon when I described it to her, having just thought of it. The snag is that the boss will never bother to get the gardener to make one. Highly paid office workers who have to sit down all day get special orthopoedic chairs, but lowly paid garden centre workers who have to stand up all day are just supposed to cope. I developed the prototype in my mind as I pulled dead leaves off Hemerocallis. It would be at the right height to work standing up, without stooping, narrow enough to only take up half an aisle in the plant centre so that customers with trolleys could pass if they insisted, with space on top to rest a pot and put down your secateurs and knife, a low back to stop pots being pushed off, a bin of compost at the right height to reach it for top dressing without stooping, and a bucket for prunings at one end, below the height of the worktop so that you could sweep prunings straight in. It would have wheels at one end for moving it along the aisle, and legs at the other so it didn't roll around (and you only had to buy two wheels). It could have a shelf underneath for collecting up any dead or suspect plants encountered en route. Using my new trolley I could work at a sensible height, using both hands to manipulate leaves and operate the secateurs, instead of having to do everything one handed while using the other hand to hold the pot. The idea has to be a sure-fire winner. I need to persuade the Systems Administrator to make me a prototype, having worked out how high 'the right height' actually is. I tried out the idea on the S.A. briefly when I got home, and have agreement in principle. The size of scantlings could be an issue. When the S.A. built the chicken house, all the frames and planks came out a size thicker than specified in The Golden Cockerel Book of Poultry Houses, and when it was finished we could barely lift it and I almost ruptured myself helping to get it out of the workshop (although it did probably save the chicken's lives when a tree fell on it). The patent Cardunculus portable potting bench needs to be as light as is consitent with not actually disintegrating during use. I don't want to swop back ache for a hernia caused by trying to move the potting bench about, and the boss will get cross if it scuffs up the gravel.
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