Just as I posted the Wordle there was a knock on the door. I expected a beleaguered Lib Dem candidate or Dolores, a very cheerful Jehovah’s Witness who I’m quite fond of but no, it was my mother obscured by a beautiful chinese Wisteria. Like a bountiful flower fairy. She says it’s an extra B’day present from her and Dad.
I am literally knocked out by their kindness and hopping with glee. I wanted one last year but kept baulking at the price. It’s also more usually found at garden centres. Getting to them involves expedition like preparations when you don’t have a car. Also I really can’t justify the cost… especially to Steve, “How much?! for another flower -*insert incredulous look of disgust*..?”
It’s an investment though. I want it to scramble over the pergola – it’s mainly why I wanted one in the first place. That luscious curtain of blooms hanging down, welcoming in warmer days. I eye up other people’s longingly. The sooner it’s in the sooner my lilac perfumed curtain is a reality. I thought I’d missed the boat again this year so my gabbled thanks and huge hug are heartfelt. She can’t stop , gives Ida a cuddle and a magnetic farmyard book and swoops away. I suspect she has plant booty of her own to get into the earth.
We dig a hole and dig in some of our eggshelly, avocado skin littered compost and I clumsily put some screws and garden wire up one of the posts to tie it into.
I am gloriously, stupidly pleased. My aunt who disapproves of fruitless gardening wonders why I waste so much attention on cropless flowers. But this is their crop. My pleasure. And all the buzzing insects. Everything has a part to play in the old ecological web.
I retreat to the kitchen reluctantly to wash up. While I’m elbow deep in soapy water Ida comes shrieking in, I can’t make out the words in all the squealing excitement and puzzled I dry my hands and follow her insistent small personage out. The bud we’d looked at this morning was doing this in the midday sun;