We are definitely not winning. I went out into the front garden at half past seven this morning to open the anti-rabbit gate and saw one hopping in a leisurely fashion from the eleagnus hedge into the bed by the entrance. A large, fat, adult. Only the one, and no babies, thank goodness, so no evidence that they are breeding in the garden, but they seem to be living in it, or at least one is. I went and fetched Our Ginger and carried him down to the gate, while he purred, pleased with the attention, followed at a distance by the short indignant tabby, shouting loudly and presumably displeased at my sudden disappearance before she'd decided if she wanted any more breakfast. I set Our Ginger down on the gravel pointing at the bed where the rabbit had gone, and he stared at it politely but in apparent bafflement, and five minutes later was back outside the cat door.
The Strulch did not come. I bit the bullet at the weekend and ordered another pallet. I am so almost on top of the weeding in the formal garden for once, I'd like to keep it that way. Rusted iron plant supports or a sculpture for the garden would have been nice, but mulch is more important. The leaves of everything are expanding by the day, so I would have liked the Strulch for the weekend, if not tomorrow morning. Besides which, I'd been hanging around within sight of the gate and keeping a regular check on the phone since yesterday morning. I rang after lunch to enquire, and discovered that there had been a problem with the bags which had thrown everything out of synch. The owner sounded harassed. It is a wonderful product, but a bit of a one woman show when it comes to ordering and delivery.
She had rescheduled it for tomorrow, when I had said on the order form that it must NOT come on Friday. I have to go out, and it seems unfair to end up leaving the Systems Administrator to offload another fifty bags, plus I absolutely do not want to find the lane out blocked by a delivery lorry at the point when I have to leave. We agreed she would reschedule it again for Monday, and she thanked me for being so understanding, and I thought that I must have managed to sound more understanding than I felt.
Once I didn't have to keep an eye out for the Strulch lorry I was free to roam, so I disappeared to the bottom of the back garden, where the bog bed needed watering. It is incongruous to have to water a bog, and I was afraid that might happen when I planted the area up. Two years ago after the very wet winter the bed was mud soup to a depth of nine inches. It isn't now. Nothing I planted positively demands to be in liquid mud, but the primula and ferns certainly don't want it dry. It was nice anyway to have a reason to work down there, since the fritllaries are out in the lawn and the great white cherry is in full blast. I collected up dead bamboo leaves, noting a small piece of wandering root that needs digging out before it can spread further outside the circle of galvanised lawn edging that is supposed to delineate the limits of the bamboo, and pulled up hairy bittercress and nettle seedlings in preparation for the Strulch.
I repotted the orchids as well, now I'm fully kitted up with chopped coco husk chips and perlite. The anxiety of disturbing their roots was intense and I shall worry about them for a fortnight until I see they are none the worse for my messing around with them. The leaves on one of the two Erythrina crista-galli seedlings suddenly began to shrivel in the greenhouse a couple of days ago. You just never know with plants.
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