more mulching and weeding

The day dawned on two gleaming bags of Strulch on the top lawn, and two green buckets, and I resolved to use the Strulch that morning and move the buckets then keep the lawn free of mess, so that I'd have a clear view from the bathroom window.  The plan failed, in that I used the two bags, but then fetched some more, and picked up the rose prunings I'd left on the grass, but then did some more pruning and left new bits on the lawn, and distracted myself into starting the tackle the large lump of shrubby ivy that's fallen out from the wood over the deck on the far side of the lawn where the potted witch hazels live.  So by lunchtime I had more mess than when I'd started, although I'd got quite a lot of gardening done.  The day is definitely drawing nearer when I'll have finished mulching the rose bed behind the house, and it will be all set up for another couple of years.  But that day may not be tomorrow.  I managed to kid myself first thing that today could be the day, but by mid-morning had to admit that I was being hopelessly optimistic.

I was going to be hard hearted and press on in the afternoon, but the chickens sounded so disconsolate that I realised I had to let them out.  They were not keen to wander, and stuck close by me as I weeded the herb bed.  I don't understand how they decide when they are going to split into two groups, or go charging off down the garden, or whether to stay in a tidy flock close to the hen house.  I sometimes think they travel further on nice days, and today was pretty grey, but I'm not sure that's the whole answer.  Has something (a fox?) passed by their house on the off-chance and scared them recently?  It certainly makes for a more productive afternoon's gardening if they stay firmly in one place.

The herb bed has a path running diagonally across it, made by me, a diamond pattern of paving slabs set firmly in concrete with triangles of cobbles filling in the gaps.  I'm quite pleased with it. Borders of chives run down each side of the path, and around the two edges of the bed that aren't backed by the pot shed and the chicken run.  They have become rather gappy, and I have my eye on various clumps of chives that have put themselves in places where I don't want them, for lifting and splitting to fill in some of the gaps.  Chives seed incontinently, and when I think of the tiny pots that garden centres sell for between one and two pounds I can't begin to guess how much our chives would be worth on that basis.  I used to feel the same sense of dislocation seeing the plant centre charging the best part of four quid for little pots of Asphodeline lutea or Lychnis coronaria. I have to pull them out like weeds, indeed, while I give the Asphodeline its head in the gravel, within limits, the Lychnis is now functionally a weed and I pull out every plant I see.

Addendum  The Systems Administrator suggested keeping the lumps of postcrete instead of taking them to the dump, since they break up quite readily, to use as filler next time we're mending the potholes in the lane.  Waste not, want not.