back to work

Today I was back at work for the first time in two weeks.  A few things had changed or moved around in my absence.  The tables that held the tired remnants of the bedding the last time I was there had been cleared away and that side of the tunnel swept down.  Either there was a last minute run on bedding, or a fair bit must have gone on the compost heap.  Some rather overpowering hydrangeas with massive flower heads had arrived, along with some arum lilies in an exotic range of sorbet shades.  My posters for the bulb day in September had gone up.  I was a bit irritated, the last time I was at work, that I'd given up an hour's good gardening time to prepare them when the manager asked me, and a week later they still weren't on display, since on that basis I might as well have done them at a time which suited me, and saved them for a wet day.

The manager's list of jobs for the weekend was left open as to who did what, so I opted for titivating the end tables.  I haven't been allowed to do the display tables for ages, even though the manager has been grumbling that they haven't been as nice recently as they used to be. Though I say it myself, I thought my end tables were pretty good, back in the days when I was asked to do them.  I tried to work with what was already there, when I could detect an existing theme or colour scheme, and could get away with removing anything that had gone over, filling gaps, and dead-heading.  Most of them looked pretty shoddy to my eyes, and I could sympathise with the customer who apparently complained to the manager that they weren't inspiring any more.  A good display table should contain plants that could work together in the garden, which means things needing similar growing conditions, and while I have a more eclectic sense of colour than some of our customers, I do not believe that soft pink mallows and bright orange day lilies do each other any favours.  Displays are not the easiest things to do at this time of the year, as so many plants that would be looking good in the garden are showing their resentment at being confined in two litre black plastic pots, but I was heartened when I saw a customer photographing my combination of orange day lilies and yellow Helenium.

Quite a few of the Hemerocallis have been hit the mite that's been a problem for UK gardeners in recent years.  It lays its eggs in the flower buds, which become swollen and never open properly.  If you cut one open you can see the tiny maggots wriggling around.  It is all rather revolting, and no chemical treatment is available.  The mites overwinter in the soil, and my colleague says she visited a garden that had managed to break the cycle by removing every flower bud for a season, so that the emerging adults had nowhere to lay their eggs.  That could clean up the soil for a time, but would not stop adult mites flying or drifting on the wind into the garden and reinfecting it.  Early flowering varieties suffer worst, while later ones are relatively safe because they miss the mite season.  I removed any infected buds I found, but I don't know if its a good idea to grow susceptible varieties nowadays.  At home I'm thinking of digging mine out and using the space for something that will actually flower, though I suppose I could pot them up, keep them from flowering for a year or two, and replant them in the meadow in ground that hasn't had day lilies before, then see how long it is before the mite turns up.

The day's takings were boosted by a couple who bought five trolley loads of plants, for delivery next week, having only come to look.  Having decided they might buy something today and not just look, they initially wanted us to keep the plants for them for three or four weeks until they were ready for them, and it was a relief when they changed their minds again and said that Tuesday delivery would be great.  It's a nuisance having great stashes of paid-for plants on the reserve bed, as we have to water them all by hand, and there is always the risk of something being over or under-watered. They were slightly odd people.  He quizzed me about what we would do with the plants after they had paid for them, and after I told him that we would put them in the reserved area with his name on them, he and his wife for some reason wheeled every trolley through the reserved area, which is signposted staff only, to get to the till.

At the end of the day I got as far as the entrance to our garden before remembering that I was supposed to have come home via the village to get cat food (we've run out), fresh bread, and further supplies of mini cheddars and Lucozade.  I drove round the turning circle without stopping and headed out again, to the confusion of the Systems Administrator, who heard the car tyres on the gravel and then nothing.