Here in Canberra we are in the depth of winter. I’m not sure if winter is the worst season to garden. There’s the killing frosts (goodbye to my Crassula ovata) and the winds off the Brindabellas that feels like its straight off the Southern Ocean. On the other hand, there’s rain to soften our baked clay and the UV index is low enough that I can spend time outside without fear of growing more skin cancer.
If you’d gotten organised earlier this year and planted seeds, winter doesn’t have to be dreary. Organisation, however is not my strong suit. So here Iam, planting ranunculus and chincherees in pots, hoping for a late spring wealth of blooms for the vase.i have a north facing patio where they soak up stored heat, and hopefully getting over their delayed planting.
This horticultural rashness reflects the impact of the short course I recently completed in floristry. I really miss it.It’s opened a whole new aspect of gardening to me, as well as news ways of being creative in three dimensional space. My house is now festooned in flowers and it feels wonderful, even if the bank balance is suffering. But, money so well spent. It gives me hope.
so, ranunculus. Chincherees. I’ve planted thryptomeme, flax, and eyrngium for foliage. I’ve rescued hydrangeas from the discard bin to be planted in the spring. Teucrium for its delightful silvery foliage. Wondering if I have the space for a snowball tree and an escallonia. Is it possible to find Euphorbia oblongata, as Sarah Raven recommends? So much delightful dithering.
The only thing that isn’t dithering is my lower back. It is very decidedly against this gardening lark. Realistically, a woman with a squished disc and nearly seventy skin cancers removed is not a person who should be outside, let alone gardening. Stuff reality. I can’t live without flowers.