We have a largeish and somewhat feral garden, always an overgrown mess; that I greatly appreciate - but, despite theoretically liking the idea, I need firmly to be pushed into gardening it.
This pushing my wife does; by buying large numbers of flowers and runner beans, pots of many sizes, and the compost to fill them (she enjoys this kind of shopping. I do not); and then leaving them around until my compassion for the desiccating plants compels me to do the needful.
Once they have been potted, we arrange them in suitable places; then it is down to me to water them every couple of days for four or five months, and periodically cut-off the dead geranium heads to keep them blooming.
We both pick, and the family eat, the runner beans - or, what remains after the slugs have done their worst; and my wife freezes any surplus we can't eat.
So, although these activities are pretty limited compared to what we could and should be doing; for a reluctant gardener, I spend a fair bit of time doing it.
And, although I make a point of grumbling, I enjoy the process - particularly watering the plants on a warm dry evening; which I find to be a highly spiritual and enchanting business.
This Whitsun (Pentecost) weekend looks to be very dry and warm - and because Monday is a national holiday; the roads will be choked with traffic, and the all the "attractions" (such as stately homes, or pretty villages and seaside places) will be chock-a-block.
So; the plan is to spend a lot of time in the garden - where there is plenty to do; indeed still a couple of dozen sadly pot-bound flowers seeking a more permanent home, and a tray of beetroots wanting a few feet of bedding.
It is rather a pleasing prospect!
But that won't stop me grumbling.
