What to say about Lynn from Speechless, Mostly, from whom I nicked this month's calendar image? She's just lovely, and funny, and she sends me emails that make me snort with laughter. I think she's fab.
Is it Autumn already? Really? Fantastic. I love Autumn in the garden. I know just what I'm doing.
I always miss Spring. I'm too late for it, and even if I manage to plan any seeds in time my seedlings all die, and it's hotter than I thought, earlier than I expected, and everything is full of weeds.
In Summer I stare at my garden helplessly through the rain as the greenery inches towards the sky like the forest in Sleeping Beauty.
But in Autumn I'm in control. I'm cutting stuff down and tidying up. With blades.
I don't have to feel guilty about what didn't grow. In the compost it goes!
I can buy mulch! And pat it down all over the place like a carpet!
I can make half-arsed attempts to propagate things that will be so far dead by next Spring I will have forgotten what they were even supposed to be! So it won't matter!
I can plant wallflowers! I love wallflowers. I have bought two trays, and put them in. Remember this year's wallflowers? Next year will be different, for no other reason than Because I Say So. Also bulbs, which I fling around with no real thought for how deep they need to be, and then get annoyed when my wondrous show of daffs fails to materialise.
I can move things! I always move things in Autumn. I'm constantly convinced that if I just move this shrub/ aquilegia/ bunch of whatever-the-hell-it-is over there, then next year over here will look less insane.
Also, I have signed up to some email thing or other that tells me what I should be doing every week, so there's no way it can possibly go wrong next year.
Oh, this year. It's so last year already.