So I asked some other friends.
"Oh yeah," they all said, "that's all you ever blog about."
I was tempted, in a snitty sort of way, to ask them how often they read my blog, not to mention how much of each entry they read (sometimes I slip totally unrelated things into the body of a post just to keep people on their toes). But then I thought, 'Ah what the heck, might as well just write another post about the garden.'
A while back I wrote a post about wanting to get a curly willow (but was instead thwarted by the bossy Garden Centre Guy at my local garden centre). Well, lookee to your left. This is why I wanted a Curly Willow. I had visions of chopping it down each winter, then artistically arranging the pieces all over the yard. I might even get a little crazy and spray paint some of the branches gold or silver, I thought, and hang them in the living room oh-so-atmospherically, just to OutChristmas my pal Martha. And what do you know but last fall we were at a Compost Education Centre (being educated about compost, no less) when I noted a massive curly willow. Turned out that they pollarded it each fall, shearing it right down to the ground. I looked at that big ole knarl, squished as it was between a giant compost bin, a mosaic sink, and some bins, and thought 'Harumph, take that, Garden Centre Guy!' Of course, now that I know my drains are not all they should (or could) be, I think quailing before the Curly Willow probably isn't such a bad thing.
Drains are why I built this brick square the other day. This area was, when we first bought the house, a very flat repository for that weird red stuff known as Lava Rock. It didn't look as though anything else was growing there, and I hate Lava Rock (unless it's in hanging out naturally in Hawaii), so I scraped it all away and, because it was an otherwise shady and unremarkable spot, planted some fuchsias. Two winters later and I noticed a distinct lack of growth amongst the plants in that bed. Things grew alright, but nothing burgeoned. They all looked cold. Damp. And in the winter the bed oozed wetness. I could see algea growing in the corners. So I canvassed my friends for leftover bricks, and built this little container. And planted Baby's Tears in the cracks. And stuck more old branches of Curly Willow into it! Gosh - the atmosphere of the place! Garden Centre Guy, gnash your teeth!
Just in case you need another view.
Are you wondering where I got all this Curly Willow? Well, I didn't get myself a tree (at some other garden centre). And no, I didn't buy it (I'm far too cheap). No, I (no laughing now) brought it with me when we moved from the mainland to this island. A gardening fellow used to give it to me each winter. And when we moved over here I felt too attached to this particular bundle to throw them out
Really. And truly.
Uh oh, you've all gone silent. You really think I'm nutty, now, don't you?
Okay, moving on.
And finally, a flag. A rock flag. What can I say, I like rocks.