Come into the garden, Maude...

Isn't is amazing how a blog about me chomping down on a cube of Palmolive proves to be the best read one for the last few weeks.  You are a callous lot!

With this stunning weather carrying on, thoughts turned to the garden yesterday and all the different shades of green I seem really good at cultivating.  A trip to the local garden centre was on the cards first thing, and £83.56 later, I drove home with every square inch of upholstery covered with something which had a life expectancy of about a week now it was in my possession. 

I have made the questionable decision to do my own hanging baskets this year having handed over the responsibility to someone who knows what they are doing for the last two years.  'Seven plants.  No more', advised the garden centre lady firmly.  Apparently 'less is more' where hanging baskets are concerned, but try explaining that to the husband.  When he looked at the tiny specimens in the baskets as they gently swayed in the balmy breeze yesterday afternoon, he looked at me as if to say, 'Bit sparse aren't they?'  One swift look from me stopped the words actually coming out of his mouth I'm glad to say.  I expect he's glad he managed to keep the words behind his teeth too...

Well ladies, it took me three hours to get all the baskets and pots done, and the last thing to do was to plant some pretty stuff between the green stuff, thus making my border look less like something seen by the side of the A34 (without the empty Red Bull cans).

Bent double over the last two Hollyhocks, the sweat ran down my face.  Never mind watering the bloody things in, I was providing a level of irrigation my local arable farmer would have been impressed with, and when I finally thrust my fork into the border, I was a broken woman.  

My nails were knackered, my back had taken on the same silhouette as a Kirby grip, and I had sunburnt calves.  All in all, not the best of looks, but hopefully, the fruits of my labours won't be in vain, and some of the unsuspecting victims, sorry bedding plants, will survive the next couple of months.

The next four hours were spent sleeping off my gardening exertions - unfortunately, I now have a very interesting suntan.  

Brown front

White back

Red calves

The husband and I are meeting Jolly Sock Man's parents later today, and we are under strict instruction 'not to embarrass' daughter number two.

I wonder if turning up looking like a Dulux colour chart counts as embarrassing?

I'll let you know...