Garden Shapes

A while back I was at a meeting, and I ran into a friend who said "All you ever blog about is gardening!" I was kind of struck by this, because while I know I do blog about gardening, it never struck me as the only thing I ever blog about.

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 as my treacherous and not very interested in gardening spouse suggested. In fact, we made a special trip just for my plants. I even packed up the compost: I planted all the garden plants I wanted to take in it - all in little black nursery pots.

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.